


The Sky Act

by Manuscriptor



Series: Avem Universe [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angels are Animals, Blacksmith!Dean, Gen, Historical Accuracy, Kinda, Professor!Sam, Rescued from the Circus AU, at least as accurate as I can get it, circus AU, early 1900s, historical fiction - Freeform, the Wright brothers are behind schedule for plot reasons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-28
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-08-08 15:48:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 41,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16432352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Manuscriptor/pseuds/Manuscriptor
Summary: Sam is a professor in a new field of science. He studies avem, winged bipeds that have been affectionately nicknamed 'angels.' But they aren't real angels. They are animals, and they certainly act like it.Down on his luck and running out of work in the States, Sam returns to England to stay with his brother for a while. He was expecting to spend the time relaxing and taking a break from his studies. He certainly didn't expect to spend it rehabilitating an avem he accidentally rescued from a travelling circus.





	1. When the Circus Comes to Town

The bells, whistles, and shouts greeted Sam as he stepped off the ship into the English port city. It smelled distinctly of fish and sea water, and he was looking forward to finding a hotel further inland to get away from that. After two months at sea, Sam was grateful to have solid ground underfoot and a chance at food that wasn’t heavily salted to prevent it from spoiling. Hefting his briefcase in one hand and shouldering his knapsack on his shoulder, he strode down the gangplank and onto the pier below.

Sam was supposed to be meeting Dean, his brother, and if he had counted the days right on the boat, he had arrived right on time.

Traveling from New York to England hadn’t been high on Sam’s list of what he wanted to do, but after receiving a letter from Dean nearly three months ago talking about engineering breakthroughs and all his fascinating discoveries, Sam had given in and agreed to return home.

Besides, being an ethologist in the new states was rough going. No one seemed keen on sponsoring his studies and with money running so thin, Sam was running out of work. So he carefully stored all his books and files in crates, stored those crates in the driest corner of his cellar, and packed a suitcase of clothes for England.

He had a sketchbook, several basic biology texts, and a periodical of the newest scientific discoveries, but as far as Sam was concerned, this was a vacation from his work. Besides, maybe spending a couple months with Dean would allow the economy in the states to bounce back.

And if Dean was having the so-called ‘breakthrough discoveries’ he was talking about, perhaps he would sponsor Sam for a year or so. It would be an interesting option to approach.

Trying to drag his mind away from work, Sam studied the hustle and bustle of the market area around him. Fishmongers were hanging up their latest catches, bartering with housewives on price, and tossing scraps to the stray cats that prowled the wooden piers and ships. Children, some of them ship hands and some of them locals, ran up and down the streets, playing with rolling hoops or running off to buy candy with whatever pocket change they had.

And, of course, there were angels.

Sam wrinkled his nose. What an ugly name to give them. _Avem hominum_ was the technical term. Sam would know, he studied them extensively in the states.

Bipedal with wings, opposable thumbs, and an attraction to all things shiny, the creatures were considered subhuman. While they could mimic human speech, their own communication consisted of chirps, trills, and songs like most avian species. Dietary constrictions varied from region to region, but here in the port city, the avems were snapping and fighting for fish scraps and any handouts.

Sam watched an avem perched in the bows of a ship, keeping a sharp lookout over the cargo. The collar around its throat marked it as property of the ship and it probably worked to keep away thieves. Sam kept a tight grip on his suitcase, scared the buckles would attract the eye of an overly curious avem, and picked up his step, walking faster towards the streets.

He was supposed to be meeting Dean at the iron Smithing. He had gotten directions in his letter and had practically memorized them at this point. He hailed a steam carriage, passing a couple shillings to the man driving.

“Where ya headed?” the man asked, already pulling back out into traffic.

“The Smithing,” Sam replied.

“Oh! The one on Eighth Street?” the man said.

“Yes,” Sam said, a little surprised that the man knew what he was talking about.

“Job opportunities or somethin’ else?” the man said, continuing to push the conversation.

Sam wrinkled his nose, not wanting to give away too much information but not wanting to be rude. “I’m meeting family,” he said. “Getting away from work.”

The man hummed and nodded, turning down a street and narrowly missing a pedestrian. “You came at a good time,” he said.

“What do you mean?” Sam asked.

“The circus is coming to town,” the man said cheerfully. “One of the biggest ones in Europe! Coming to our town, right here!”

Before Sam could question about the circus further, the steam carriage pulled to a stop in front of a two-story brick building that had smoke billowing out of one of its three smoke stacks. Even through the doors, Sam could hear the sharp clang of metal-on-metal and could smell the burning wood and molten metal.

“Thank you,” he said to the driver, gathering his stuff and stepping out of the car.

The steam carriage sped off without another word from the driver, and Sam waved away the cloud of black smoke it left. He then strode into the Smithing, welcoming the gust of heat that greeted him as he opened the door.

“Dean?” he called. “It’s me, Sam.”

The clanging stopped, and then a moment later a soot covered face poked out of the doorway near the back of the shop. Sam didn’t even recognize the person until a beaming white smile split through the black.  

“Sam!” Dean said, pulling his heavy leather apron over his head and tossing it aside. He used his sleeve to wipe his face, but that only smeared the black further across his cheeks.

Sam dropped his suitcase and his knapsack, throwing his arms wide. “Dean!”

They grabbed each other in a hug, squeezing each other tight. Dean smelled like smoke and sweat and he left smears of black on Sam’s good shirt. Sam didn’t care. He hugged Dean back, greasy hair and sweat and all.

“I can’t believe you made it,” Dean said, being the first to push away. “I thought the ocean had gotten you for sure!”

“A couple times, almost,” Sam admitted, shuddering as he thought back to the strong winds and towering waves. While the ship hadn’t taken on water, the creaking of the wooden sides and the snap of ropes in the wind had been more than disconcerting. Sam had stayed huddled in the keep until the captain had personally came down to tell him everything was okay.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Dean said, still beaming from ear to ear.

“Now what’s this great, amazing breakthrough you wrote about?” Sam said, wanting to push the conversation away from himself.

That made Dean light up even more.

“Oh!” he said. “This way!”

He led the way back to the forge, further into the sweltering heat. He didn’t bother putting on his apron again, leading Sam away from the main welding area and back to a storage room. Half-finished projects and twisted shapes of metal hung from the wall, showing where Dean’s attention should be focused. Instead, Dean walked past all of that and to a section on the back wall.

Mounted with perfect care and gleaming with shine, was the strangest thing Sam had ever seen.

The frames were mostly wooden with slates of metal pounded into place in between. Sam could see hinges at different intervals, meaning the thing had to curl and uncurl somehow. The entire thing was mounted with leather straps, as if it were meant to be worn as a knapsack.

“What is it?” Sam asked, not understanding where Dean’s enthusiasm was coming from.

“Wings!” Dean said, pulling the contraption down off the wall and pulling it onto his shoulders. “I spent weeks watching the avem in the square, and I think I’ve finally done it!” He pulled the leather straps tight across his chest.

“Done what?” Sam asked.

“Flying!” Dean said enthusiastically, fitting his hands into grips halfway down the . . . . wings.

Sam wrinkled his nose. “Humans can’t fly,” he said.

Dean was still beaming at him. “Not right now they can’t,” he said. “But what if we could? Imagine crossing the Atlantic is a _day_. Imagine being able to see your family even though they live on another continent!”  

Sam had to admit, the idea was tempting. But the design of Dean’s invention. It was so _crude_.

“You said you watched the avem?” he asked, cautiously circling behind Dean to study the way the hinges flexed and moved. Avem wings were nothing like the contraption on his back.

“Kinda,” Dean said. “They were the inspiration. And then I used my own imagination and ta-da!” He spun a full circle, showing them off completely. “This is the final product.”

Sam raised an eyebrow.

“ _Almost_ final product,” Dean corrected. “I need to attach sails to the frames so that I can actually get lift but practically the final product.”

“This is what you wanted to show me,” Sam said.

Dean shrugged. “I wanted to test them,” he said. “But I wanted you to see too.”

Sam smiled. Oh definitely. He definitely wanted to see this. “Of course,” he agreed. “Tonight?”

“I have the cloth,” Dean said. “And there’s no point in waiting any longer.” He grinned. “I’ve been actually really excited to try them out.”

“Then let’s do it!” Sam said.

He helped Dean undo the contraption from his back and fold it up. There was a heavy leather carrying case that it could be rolled for safe traveling. Dean showed Sam where the bolts of fabric were and added them to the pile near the door. Dean also packed a container with container of beer, loaves of bread and two chunks of cheese. He then added a half empty jar of peanut butter and a container of granola.

“For the avem,” he said with a mysterious wink when he caught Sam’s curious stare.

Sam shrugged it off, following Dean around the work area until they had everything in a pile. They split it between themselves to carry, and Dean led the way out the door.

The square that Dean was talking about was only a short way away so they walked the distance without hailing a steam carriage. With it being so late in the day, the streets were mostly empty with only the night crowd starting to populate the space. The square, a vast stone space in front of a huge cathedral, was equally empty.

Empty, except for the avem.

Flocks of them hung out around the church, perching high off the crowd on the top of the roofs. They cut striking silhouettes against the darkening sky. There wasn’t quite a sunset yet, but the sky was definitely going darker.

Dean picked a spot and started unloading all of the equipment. Sam set his own stuff down do, stepping out of the way to let Dean work. Instead, he watched the avem.

They were interesting creatures, calling to each other in song. Some of them preened their feathers, showing off to the others and some of them bathed in the dying sunlight. Some of them, drawn by Dean’s movement, circled overhead. One in particular landed close by, stepping closer.

It wore ragged clothes, like sheets with holes for the arms and legs with minimal need for sewing. Both its hair and wings were a charcoal black and rough looking, like it got into fights often.

“That’s one of the bravest ones,” Dean said, speaking up when he finally looked up and noticed the avem. “He’s super friendly.”

Sam eyed the avem with distrust. “He?” he repeated. “How do you know it’s a he?”

Dean grinned, fastening the cloth to the frame of his device. “I know,” he said. “Just . . . trust me, Sam.”

The avem didn’t seem to care about their conversation. Instead, its— _his_ eyes were locked on the bag of food, as if it knew what it held. He crept closer to Dean, splaying out his wings and batting his eyes, cooing softly.

“I coaxed him with food,” Dean explained. “To let me see his wings. Now he thinks every time he flashes his feathers at me he’s going to get candy.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Stupid,” he said.

The avem looked at him and cocked his head. “Stupid,” he repeated.

Sam jumped, not expecting the thing to speak.

The avem grinned at him, showing off sharp fangs. “Stupid human,” it said.

“Don’t be mean, Cas,” Dean admonished. “Or I won’t let you eat.”

“Cas?” Sam said, disliking the avem more and more.

“Yeah,” Dean said. “That’s the sound he makes.” He went back to securing the sail to the frame. He worked methodically, no longer paying attention to ‘Cas.’

Cas fluffed up his feathers and gave Sam a proud, toothy grin. “Ka-has!” he called, the harsh call nothing like the normally beautiful songs that most avem sang.

Sam winced and shot Cas a glare.

“Ka-has!” Cas called again and then cackled. “Stupid human.”

More avem were growing bolder, joining Cas on the ground and creeping their way closer. Sam was able to get a good, up-close look at them, a luxury he never had over in the states. He studied the way they moved, slightly hunched to keep their wings from dragging in the ground and tiptoeing on the stone with bare feet.

“Ah-hah!” Dean said triumphantly, making several avem take flight in fear, flapping back to a safe distance.

Dean stood proudly with the wings finally finished strapped to his back. The cloth already was catching the air, flaring out. Not as natural as avem feathers but still a remarkable feat. Cas crept closer, giving the contraption a good once-over.

“Stupid human,” he repeated, shaking his head and twitching his wings. He jumped back to give Dean room as he unlatched the different sections of the wings.

Awkwardly, Dean bent down and opened his pack of food. When he pulled out the jar of peanut butter and bag of granola, Cas’s wings flared excitedly.

“How about this,” Dean said, selecting a larger chunk of granola and unscrewing the peanut butter. “I’ll give you some of this, if you keep your snarky remarks to yourself.”

Cas nodded eagerly, happily accepting the treat from Dean.

“Alright,” Dean said, wrapping his hands around the grips and rolling his shoulders. “Here we go.”

With a clank and a whoosh of fabric, the wings opened to their full extent, almost as wide as Cas’s. They moved with an awkward stiffness that made several other avem retreat to safer distances. Cas squawked indignantly, flaring his own wings. Dean laughed at that, moving the wings experimentally.

“What do you think?” he said to Sam. “Think it’ll work?”

“I think you’ll get hurt,” Sam said honestly.

“Only one way to find out,” Dean said. He turned himself to face the square, angled his wings to create less drag, and took off at a light jog.

For several steps, he just moved the wings experimentally up and down. And then, apparently satisfied with what he was either seeing or feeling, Dean picked up speed and took a leap into the air, bringing the wings down at the same time.

He actually took flight.

For roughly one second.

And then he came crashing back down to earth.

“Dean!” Sam yelled, running to his brother’s side to make sure he was okay.

Deas was gasping for breath, probably having the wind knocked out of him. The frame on his left side was twisted up, definitely needing repairs, and the cloth on the right side had ripped and would need to be replaced. Sam didn’t care about things like that. He just wanted to make sure Dean was okay.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Dean said, waving away his concern as he pushed himself up onto his knees. He groaned and clutched his stomach.

Cas was squawking indignantly, flapping his wings as he made a racket a little ways away. Sam shot him a glare but focused most of his attention on Dean. He helped his brother to his feet, dusting off the front of his shirt.

“I'm guessing that's not how it was supposed to go,” Sam said.

Dean hung his head, already undoing the straps across his chest. “No,” he mumbled.

Cas was still throwing a fit, jumping around and flailing his wings. Finally, he huffed and straightened, pulling his wings in and strutting around the square.

“I’m Dean,” he claimed, walking with locked knees and stiff posture. “I’m a human. I’m Dean.” He spread his arms with his wings and flapped them in a parody of Dean’s own wood and metal wings. “I can fly and I’m human and I’m Dean.”

Sam actually laughed at that.

Apparently avem didn't like being mocked. Cas must've thought Dean was doing his best impression and found the actions insulting. Cas stuck his tongue out, snatched up the bag of granola, and took off, quickly flying up and out of reach. He perched on one of the church's low archways, settling in to enjoy his prize.

“He should know that that stuff is expensive,” Dean grumbled, shrugging off his contraption and walking it back over to its leather case.

He folded it the best he could. At one point he had to force it together, one of the wooden supports letting out a worrisome crunch. Dean ignored it, folding over the leather and strapping the buckles. He hoisted that package onto his shoulders and sighed.

“Well, it was a try,” he said.

“That’s it?” Sam said. Two months of treacherous sea travel for one crash of a new experiment? He had to admit, it was slightly disappointing.

“That’s not _it_ ,” Dean said. “I’ll make some changes, fix it up, and we can try again soon.”

“How long do you think this will be?” Sam asked, following Dean as they started back down the street, heading back towards the Smithing.

“A couple months,” Dean said. “Why? You don’t want to stay that long?”

Sam thought it over. “I don’t want to immediately go back,” he said. “I just want to have some sort of timeline.”

“You got work to get back to?” Dean asked, giving him a knowing look.

Sam bristled. “No,” he admitted. “I’d just like to have a plan.”

Dean laughed. “I get it, I get it,” he said. “I know some people in the university that could give you work if you want. You don’t have to spend your time here doing nothing.”

Sam perked up at that. “The university? How do you know people there?”

“I fix a lot of things,” Dean said. “So I know a lot of people.”

“That sounds good,” Sam said. The university honestly peaked his interest.

“And you know what else?” Dean went on. “There’s a circus in town too.”

“I heard about that,” Sam said.

“Well,” Dean said. “I figured since you’re all about studying animals and whatever you’d be interested. I’ve heard they got elephants and lions and of course, amazing food!” He winked at Sam. “Clowns.”

Sam shuddered. “Come on, Dean,” he said. “You know how I feel about clowns.”

Dean turned into the Smithing, holding the door open for Sam. He dumped the leather bag on a side table and stretched his arms. “I’ve got rooms upstairs that you can stay in. My working apartment has two bedrooms,” Dean said. “The circus were even advertising a new avem performance.”

“Avem can perform?” Sam said.

“Avem can be taught to do anything,” Dean said. “What I’m saying is, do you wanna go?”

“Sure,” Sam said. “There’s not much else to do in this rundown down.” He gave Dean a teasing smile, and Dean rolled his eyes.

“America has made you stuck up,” Dean said.

“And you think you can fly like an avem,” Sam retorted.

“You’re an ass,” Dean said.

Sam rolled his eyes and followed Dean up the stairs to the second floor of the Smithing.

The rooms were all well furnished with heavy wood furniture, homey and warm from the furnace below. Gingham curtains framed all the windows, and Sam made a note to tease Dean about it later. Dean’s apartment was four main rooms. Two were sleeping areas with their own chests and drawers for clothes.  One was a small cooking area with a cast iron stove, stack of firewood, and shelves of dishes and utensils. The last room was a sitting area with two different recliners and a small side table.

“You can leave your stuff wherever,” Dean said, gesturing to the space. “The circus isn’t open until late.”

“Alright,” Sam said, choosing the bedroom that looked most uninhabited and walking in. He placed his bags on the bed which already had sheets and blankets and pillows.

“You hungry?” Dean called from the kitchen. There was the clatter of pans and wood, so he was already making something.

“Sure, I could eat,” Sam said.

He busied himself with unpacking his clothes, folding his crisp clean jackets into the chest and his slightly wrinkled shirts into the drawers. He kicked off his sturdy travel boots and made sure his nicer dress shoes were placed carefully by the foot of the bed. He paused a moment, to appreciate the view from the one window in his room.

He looked over the vast sprawl of the European city, the clouds of black smoke making the entire thing hazy and otherworldly. The silhouettes of avem coasted over the roofs and singing their songs to the setting sun.

Sam squinted, finally spotting the striped tent just peaking up into view over the horizon. The circus, presumably. Sam smiled to himself. The circus would be fun, he decided. A nice reprieve from all the work that plagued him in the states.

Spending a couple months with his brother was perhaps just the thing he was looking for.  

 


	2. When Sam is a Professor

Dean pulled through on his promise of good food and a good time. Under the streetlamps and spotlights, the stalls and booths at the circus practically glowed with unearthly appeal. Employees of the circus wandered the grounds. Sometimes, their faces were done up with paint or gaudy makeup. Some walked around on towering stilts, others just passed out flyers for the events, urging as many people as possible to come.

Children ran through the crowds, carrying masks and fistfuls of candy, squealing in delight at all the sights and sounds and tastes to take in. Their parents, dressed up in elegant gowns and carefully pressed suits, walked with much more dignity down the dirt paths, chatting with each other or with others they recognized.  

Sam and Dean walked side-by-side with each other, done up in fine suits of their own. Freshly pressed white button downs tucked into creased black slacks. Sam wore a dark tailcoat that extended down to the backs of his knees. Dean wore a double-breasted vest, apparently not caring enough to change out of his day clothes for a night on the town.

“Hey, look,” Dean said, his mouth full of cotton candy. He pointed to a poster of a marvelously painted avem, golden wings splayed down its back and its elegant chin pointed at the sky, baring its throat to anyone looking.  

“They must’ve hired a good artist,” Sam commented, munching idly on his own roasted peanuts. He’d never seen an avem look that beautiful before.

“I can’t wait to see all the performers,” Dean said with a waggle of his eyebrows. “Some of them can bend completely over backwards, Sammy, imagine what they could do between the sheets.”

“Oh, gross!” Sam said, wrinkling his nose. “Come on, Dean, can’t you have a little class?”

“Look! The Big Top!” Dean said, already rushing off in that direction.

Sam rolled his eyes but turned to follow him anyway, rolling the bag of peanuts and tucking it into his pocket. He double checked to make sure his wallet was still in place and that some hooligan hadn’t made off with it.

The Big Top smelled like smoke, sawdust, and body odor all under a thick layer of perfume. Already, prim and proper white ponies pranced in tight, practiced circles, fluffy plumes bobbing from the tops of their heads. Their trainer, a young lady with impossibly pale skin, stood at their center, guiding them all with waves of her hand and a beaming smile.

“Check her out,” Dean said with a jerk of his chin, finding two seats close to the front and settling down.

Sam watched the woman direct a horse to her side and climbed onto its saddle, balancing on the balls of her feet and then steering the horse back into the circle. She rode with obvious skill and balance, tipping her head back and laughing at every circle the ponies made. They got tighter and tighter before weaving in and out. The girl jumped from back to back, balancing like a ballerina.

“Impressive,” Sam said.

“And this is just the warm-up,” Dean said, leaning forward in his seat and licking his lips excitedly.  “Wait until the main show.”

After several minutes of practice, the girl dismounted the ponies and led all of them out of the main ring, praising each one with pats and sugar cubes. More people had started filtering into the main tent, clambering for the good seats.

And then the lights snapped off.

And then a spot light snapped on.

“Go-o-od Evening, Ladies and Gentlemen! Boys and Girls of all ages! Welcome! To! The! Circus!!”

Every single person cheered and screamed and clapped for the man in the top hat. He wore a brilliant red suit and a beaming smile, sweeping his gaze across the crowd and speaking as if he knew each and every one of them.

“Are you ready to see wonders from the four corners of the earth?” he asked, speaking into a microphone that projected his voice throughout the entire tent. “Are you ready to see feats of bravery and skill that will send shivers down your spine? Freaks and oddities that will give you nightmares?”

The crowd roared back at him, yelling their approval. Dean and Sam joined in, pumping their fists in the air. Of course they wanted to see! What else had they paid for?

“Then give it up!” the man said, directing their attention to the gates into the ring. “For the first act of the evening!”

Acrobats and tumblers, dressed up in glimmering uniforms in bright colors, entered the ring. They juggled hoops and balls, bowling pins and knives. They juggled each other, tossing themselves up into the air only to come flipping back down, landing perfectly every time. They pandered to the audience, blowing kisses and winks and waves out over the sea of people.

And then clowns entered the ring, much to Sam’s dismay. Their faces were all painted up and they plastered each other with crème pies. Where the acrobats were graceful, the clowns were not. They fell flat on their faces and tripped over their own feet. Dean was busting a gut over it all, eating it up as much as the kids in the seat in front of them.

And then the horses came back with the same elegant woman. This time, she didn’t just balance. She flipped and tumbled from horse to horse, dodging the juggling items of the acrobats and the antics of the clowns. Her costume now had plumes that matched the horses. One sprouted right from her forehead, bobbing in time with her nods and the beat of the music.

All three acts cleared the ring then, and the announcer returned.

“What talent!” he said as the acrobats helped clean up the ring behind him. “What skill! Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, there is only more of that!”

The kids in the front row cheered, spilling popcorn on the seats and floor. Dean cheered with them, being careful not to spill his own snacks.

“How would you like to see talents from the East now?” the announcer goaded. “Wonders and marvels that your eyes have never seen! Beasts and acts the likes of which have only ever existed in your dreams!” He spun, directing everyone’s attention back to entrance to the ring. “Behold! Elephants!”

The great, lumbering beasts plodded out into the ring, raising their trunks and trumpeting gloriously. They moved with a certain power that made Sam shiver. The women that sat on top of their shoulders were dressed mainly in beads, honey golden skin gleaming with oil. They waved and tittered to the crowd, winking at the men and earning glares from the women.

Dean slapped Sam’s shoulder, pointing at both the elephants and the woman, whistling low with his teeth.

“Would you look at _that_ ,” he said. “Amazing.”

And Sam wasn’t sure if he was talking about the elephants or the ladies.

After the elephants came fire dancers and jugglers. The heat washed over the first few rows which meant Sam was sweating in his coat. After a couple minutes of shifting uncomfortably in his seat, Sam shrugged it off, draping it carefully over the back of his chair.

The announcer came back after that act, dressing in a golden suit this time. He hushed everyone with a wave of his hand as the lights dimmed down, sobering up the atmosphere. This time, he didn’t have to even raise his voice. He just spoke.

“Now, everything you’ve seen here is very, very interesting and marvelous,” he said. “It’s all been the stuff of dreams and fantasies.”

“Heh,” Dean said under his breath. “Fantasies.”

Sam rolled his eyes.

“It’s amazing what humans can accomplish,” the announcer went on. “Because isn’t that what we all want to see? Humans accomplishing amazing feats? We loving watching how skilled the acrobats are and how skilled the jugglers are and how skilled the dancers are.” He paused for dramatic effect, the entire crowd drawing in a breath.

“This is gonna be good,” Dean whispered under his breath. He was on the edge of his seat again, leaning forward eagerly.

“But what about the animals?” the announcer said.

“Shit,” Dean mumbled, grinning like a kid in a candy shop.

“What about the raw, natural power of the animals?” the announcer said. “Trained into submission. Used for entertainment. Going against whatever natural instincts they have. Isn’t that what you love to see?”

A couple people, a couple brave souls, called out their support. A couple ‘yes’s echoed through the tent, and the announcer nodded his approval.

“Creatures of the sky,” he started. “Beasts that have a freedom that we as humans do not.”

“Avem,” Sam breathed.

“They fly in the worst of weather,” the announcer continued. “Unafraid of heights. Unafraid of the _fall_. Avem are things almost out of dreams, blessed by the gods some would say, gracing the earth with their presence and filling the skies with their song. Angels.”

Sam scoffed at that spew of poetry. He had studied avem. He knew the truth.

“But,” the announcer said. “What are avem without their security net?” He laughed. “It turns out, they are just as scared as you or I.”

Another spotlight snapped on, this time pointed above the ring, to a series of platforms high above. Tightropes stretched between the small, wooden circles of safety, intended for balancers to strut across with the flair and finesse as if they were strolling down the sidewalk.

Instead of balancers though, there was an avem.

It was the one from the poster, golden wings pulled high and tight on its back. It clung to the main support of the platform it was on, scrambling away from the edge.

“Oh my god,” Sam breathed.

The avem was scared, that much was obvious. Sam had studied avem long enough to be able to read its body language from a distance.

It looked tiny and pathetic from where Sam stood. He had never seen an avem wearing something other than the shapeless sacks on the ones on the streets or skirts or gowns on the wilder ones. This avem, with its golden wings pulled high on its shoulders, was wearing beads and lace. Its slim frame was only accentuated by the lack of fabric.

“Behold,” the announcer said, raising his voice as the crowd began to titter with excitement. “An avem that is scared of heights!”

Sam frowned. No, no, that was all wrong. Avem weren’t scared of heights any more than birds were scared of flying. He had never seen an avem scared of heights. Hell, the creatures threw themselves off the tops of trees and buildings whenever they got the chance.

“Watch, as the creature braves its greatest fear!” the announcer said. “And crosses the tightrope, wings bound behind its back.”

As if on cue, the avem flexed its wings, attempting to flair them wide open. Chains snapped taut, preventing the avem from getting even halfway. It squawked in despair, trilling out its fear in high pitched notes.

The crowd cheered for the spectacle, clapping and whooping and cheering the avem to step off the platform and onto the rope. There wasn't even a safety net stretched below the rope and the ground. If the avem fell without its wings, it was gone.

“This can't be right,” Sam muttered, gripping his armrests tight.

“They're not going to let it die,” Dean said under his breath, but even he sounded a bit unsure.

A sharp whistle sounded and then the clank and clatter of turning gears. The avem lurched forward, and now Sam could see the collar around its throat, pulling towards the edge of its safe platform. The rope dragged it towards the edge and sheer drop. The avem cried out, once again trying to flair its wings and once again being unsuccessful.

Somewhere in the crowd, someone started up a chant, pounded their feet against the floor. In no time at all, the chant was thundering through the entire tent, even taken up by the announcer himself.

“Walk! Walk! Walk! Walk!”

Each word was punctuated by a thunder of shoes slamming into the slatted wooden floor. The atmosphere turned into a frenzied fever, everyone eager to watch this avem try. Some probably wanting to see it fail. Sam wasn’t the only one who jumped to their feet as the avem took its first step out onto the tightrope.

The entire crowd sucked in a deep breath, waiting for the moment when the avem would either balance or fall.

To Sam’s relief—and to part of the crowd’s dismay—the avem remained upright. It somehow managed to use its half-open wings to stabilize itself enough so that, even with its hands pulling against the collar at its throat, it somehow stood upright on the thin rope.

“Now,” the announcer said with a wiggle of his eyebrows as he turned back to the audience. “Can the avem make it all the way across?”

Music picked up from somewhere in the back of the ring, followed by another sharp blast from the whistle. The collar and leash began pulling the avem forward, and it wobbled dangerously, shrieking in fear and thrashing its wings.

The crowd was thunderous with applause, screaming almost as loud at the avem itself. It was a call for blood more than anything. They didn’t want the see the avem succeed. It would be much more interesting to see it fail.

“Sam, calm down,” Dean said, grabbing his arm and trying to pull him back down into his seat.

But Sam couldn’t. For some reason, the thought of the avem falling set him on edge, making him too nervous to just sit back down. Maybe it was the fact that, without its wings, the avem was as helpless as a child. Without its wings, the avem seemed so _human_.

In a sudden burst of movement, the avem sprang into action, darting forward along the narrow rope, running fast and low. It almost made it too. In the last couple feet, one of its feet slipped downward, shooting off the rope and plunging the avem downward.

The avem didn’t even scream but the crowd did, and the music took a plunging dive same as the avem itself.

The leash snapped taut. The avem’s wings opened as much as they could. It scrambled for the safety of the platform.

With the leash’s help and with frantic half-flapping of its wings, the avem managed to propel itself upward enough to get a hand on the platform and from there, climbed all the way up. It collapsed on the platform, chest heaving, wings pulled around its body.

The crowd clapped and cheered politely, but there was an obvious sense that they had really wanted to see the avem fall.

“Marvelous! Magnificent! Breathtaking!” the announcer said, throwing adjectives out into the crowd. “And now, let us watch the Kings of the Jungle face their fear of fire!”

And just like that, it was as if everyone had forgotten about the avem, oohing and aahing over the oversized cats that jogged into the ring next. Their handler, a leather clad man with a whip coiled in his hand, drove them into a gallop, making the jump and climb over obstacles. They jumped through hoops set on for too. The first lion, its mane shaved down around its shoulders, balked at the new challenge, but with a crack of the whip, he was driven forward, leaking through the hoop and landing with a thud on the sawdust floor.

After the lions, the white horses came back. This time, they were painted up in bright colors and dressed in gaudy saddles and headdresses. Other acrobats joined the first woman in their backs, flipping back and forth and dazzling the crowd.

Dean got bored when the clowns came back again too, and to Sam's relief, Dean dragged them out of the sweltering tent and until the fresh night air.

To Sam’s surprise, the outside of the Big Top wasn’t as abandoned as he thought it would be. There are still plenty of people milling around the different stalls, buying food and being entertained by the different magicians doing card tricks and producing flowers from thin air.

“Let’s go to the freak tent,” Dean said. “I wanna see the ladies with the snakes.”

They had to search for several minutes before finding the dark black tent tucked away in a corner. Dean didn’t even hesitate before pushing himself inside, and Sam had no choice but to follow.

“Welcome, sirs,” came the breathy voice of the attendant. Her chocolate brown skin shone in the lamp light of the interior. She was dressed in silks and flowing fabrics that clung to her figure, showing off her curves. “To the world of the odd, the strange, and the mysterious.”

“Oh, this is going to be good,” Dean said, nudging Sam excitedly.

The woman gave them a smile and gestured to the darker parts of the tent. “My name is Nadia Simona,” she said. “And I will be your guide through this world of the bizarre.”

She led them through a heavy set of curtains, swaying her hips and giving them sly glances over her shoulder. Dean was eating the entire thing up, following her like a puppy in love.

She showed them displays of animals gutted and stuffed and mounted. Rabbits with antlers like deer. Snakes with legs. Birds that had bat wings and fangs. Sam rolled his eyes at most of them. He was learned enough to know a fake when he saw one. Nadia must’ve caught his look of boredom because she giggled.

“Not impressed, good sir?” she asked. “Then perhaps you would like to see are more bizarre subjects.”

“Yes, please,” Dean said, answering for Sam.

Nadia led them to a section with cages. Huge, heavy steal things that held live subjects. A woman sat on a pedestal, naked except for the dozens of snakes that coiled on her skin. A man with slits on his neck and webs between his fingers sat in a tub of water. Two young girls, attached at the hip, sat in the next cage, playing patty-cake between them.

And then there was the avem.

That caught Sam’s attention immediately, and Nadia caught on.

“Ah, the bird man,” she said. “Scared of heights even though he has wings. Bizarre, wouldn’t you say?”

The avem sat in its own cage, situated on top of a tall stool. Its legs were drawn up to its chest, and it hugged them with scrawny arms. Its golden wings were stretched wide and strapped into place. The chains were gone now, allowing them to stretch to their full length. The feathers looked well-groomed at least, shiny with oil and not matted or anything. But there was something . . . off about them.

The avem looked up as they stopped in front of the cage, eyes wide with uncertainty and fear. Nadia tapped the bars with a fist, and the avem dropped its legs, giving them a full view of its body.

It still wore its performing costume, the gold fabric secured tightly around its chest and stomach. It also wore tight shorts made of the same material, showing off its thin yet muscular legs. It didn’t necessarily look underfed. Almost every avem Sam had ever seen was on the skinny side. But the shuddering breaths and fidgeting hands made Sam uneasy.

“Does it have a name?” he asked.

“We call it Gabriel,” Nadia said. “An angel sent from God above to bring good messages, now too scared of heights to return home to Heaven.”

Sam wrinkled his nose at the story. He imagined the poor avem, either trapped from the wild or taken from the streets, trained to perform for the crowds of hundreds. It _definitely_ hadn’t come from Heaven.

“Scared of heights?” Dean said, walking up behind them. “I’ve never seen an avem scared of heights.”

Nadia smiled. “That is what makes this avem so special,” she said. “Though he has wings, he is too scared to fly.”

Sam frowned. No, that wasn’t it. The wings were all off. They weren’t _fake_. They shuddered and twitched with Gabriel’s movement too much to be fake. But there was still something that set Sam off. He had studied avem too long and after staring at their wings for hours, he could tell something was off with Gabriel.

“How old is he?” Sam asked. He couldn't tear his eyes away.

Nadia seemed annoyed that he was lingering so long on the one cage but she held onto her smile. “Centuries,” she said mysteriously. “Gabriel is one of the first angels of Jesus.”

Sam rolled his eyes. That was an obvious lie. If he had to guess, Gabriel looked to be mid-to-late twenties. Avem of that age had their full grown wings with the thick plumage needed for flight. The ratio of wing-to-body was all off, and Gabriel seemed to be missing huge section of his primaries. Even if he wanted to, that alone would prevent him from gaining the needed lift and thrust.

“Does he talk?” Sam asked.

Nadia’s smile was beginning to waver, and she looked more and more irritated by each of Sam’s questions. “Only the words of the Lord,” she said through gritted teeth.

Thankfully, Dean called for her attention, wanting her to explain the naked woman covered in snakes. Sam was left alone with Gabriel though the avem refused to make eye contact.

“Hello,” Sam tried.

Gabriel’s gaze snapped up and he squirmed in his seat. His wings, pegged to the boards behind him, kept him firmly in place.

“Do you speak?” Sam asked, encouraged by the positive response.

“Speak,” Gabriel said, his voice cracked and strained from disuse. He cooed, more to himself than to Sam, like it was a comforting noise for him.

“Your wings,” Sam said. “They aren’t right, are they? You’re not actually scared of heights.”

Gabriel snapped his mouth shut but quickly shook his head. His hands twisted in his lap. He squirmed harder in his seat, tugging at his wings.

“Easy, easy,” Sam said. “Did they clip your wings?”

Gabriel nodded and his eyes flashed with anger. “Cut them,” he hissed, voice full of anger and hatred. He managed to string words together better than the avem in the square, probably because he was around more people than his own kind. “Chopped them off. Sliced them up. Didn’t want me to fly. Hate them! I hate hate hate them!”

He thrashed in his bonds now, yanked at his wings and clawing at the stool he sat on. Nadia was beside Sam in a moment, dragging him back away from the cage, her grip a tight squeeze. It was an obvious warning. Sam didn’t care.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Nadia said, already trying to push him towards the exit. “He is overtaken by a vision from God. He becomes violent and angry when reminded of his home. Let us leave him alone so that he may calm down.”

Sam brushed her aside. “No,” he said plainly.

He reached into his back pocket to pull out his wallet. He flapped it open and pulled out his business card, one that he rarely used. On it was his name and his schooling, stating him as a Professor of the Studies of Avem Ethology and Other Curious Animals. He shoved it in Nadia’s face, watching her eyes go wide.

“I am a Professor of Ethology,” he said. “You are mistreating that avem and I demand that you release him to my care or else I’ll call the authorities to do it for me.”

Behind Nadia, Sam watched Dean drop his head to his hands, covering his face and shaking his head in dismay.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags have been changed a bit, I'm leaving it as a Gen-fic though, since Sam and Gabriel's relationship will be strictly emotional. Other than that, enjoy ^-^


	3. When It's the First Night

“You can’t just take an avem from the circus!” Dean said, trying pull Sam out of the announcer’s tent. He was appalled that Sam had offered money for a ‘circus freak’ and had been trying to change Sam’s mind ever since.

“I can and I will,” Sam said, yanking his arm out of Dean's grip. “He was being _abused_ , Dean. Animal abuse is a felony.”

“This is a circus,” Dean insisted. “They train animals to perform.”

Sam shook his head, keeping his stance firm in the tent of the head announcer. He was here and he was going to get what he wanted. And he wanted that avem. The fire-y desire had overtaken him and for some reason he couldn't shake it. If he left this circus without the avem, it would be kicking and screaming.

“They train _animals_ ,” Sam said. “They _train_ them. They don't abuse them.”

“Gentleman,” the announcer greeted, stepping through the tent flaps before Dean could argue further. “I hear you've got your eyes on my avem. My golden angel from Heaven.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “If you really cared about him that much,” he said. “You wouldn’t have chopped off his wings.” He shook his finger at the smug man. “That’s unethical.”

“I think you are confused,” the man said with a smile. He shrugged as if to say ‘what can you do.’ “The avem obviously has his wings. You are delusional.”

Sam was practically fuming. He dug around in his coat pocket, finally pulling out his small field notebook. He flipped through the pages until he found a sketch that he had made himself. It was simple and rough and depicted an avem in the standard anatomical position, different areas of interest noted in his careful script.

Sam shoved the notebook into the man’s face, pointing to the sketch. “See,” he said, tapping the wings aggressively. “Ratio. In order to fly, avem need a specific ratio of wing-to-body and without that they can’t take off.”

He flipped the page, this time showing a diagram of a wing close up. Sam had spent hours sketching in the feathers just right so that it would be accurate and if he were to admit it, he was quite proud of it. Now, he showed it to the man, pointing a finger to the tips of the wings.

“The primaries,” he said. “Your avem is missing this entire section of primaries. He’s not scared of heights. He can’t even fly!”

The man waved a dismissive hand and scoffed. “Humans cannot fly either,” he said. “And yet they perform balancing acts all the time. You are over-reacting.”

“You give the humans safety nets,” Sam said. “They won’t be hurt if they fell. The avem—he got _nothing_.”

The man narrowed his eyes and his hands clenched into fists. “You are very determined, aren’t you?” he said. “You won’t give this up. Nothing is going to placate you.” The last two statements were less questions and more statements of fact.

“One thousand pounds,” Sam said, hardening his glare at the man.

The man raised an eyebrow.

“One. Thousand. Pounds.” Sam repeated, snapping his notebook shut and returning it to his pocket. “And since I’m guessing you caught that avem illegally in the wild, that’s one hundred perfect profit.”

“Sam, are you sure about this?” Dean whispered, still hovering around his shoulders.

“Two thousand pounds,” Sam said. “I take the avem today and bring you the money tomorrow.”

The man's eyebrows shot up, and he gave Sam a once-over. “How do I know you're not trying to swindle me out of a perfectly good avem?”

A ball of fire lit itself in Sam's stomach, and he clenched his own hands into fists, drawing himself up to his full height. “Perfectly good?” he repeated. “What good is an avem that can't fly and can't perform and is scared of its own shadow? Fifteen hundred pounds.”

“Now, sir,” the man said immediately looking more nervous at the drop in cash. “There’s no need to be hasty. There are quite a lot of complications and papers and legalities to get around.”

“Legalities my ass,” Sam said. “Now, should I drop my offer again or do you want that extra five hundred pounds?”

The man wrinkled his nose and curled back his lips, clearly uncomfortable with the turn of events. He looked everywhere but Sam’s face and fiddled nervously with the cuffs on his suit. Then he threw his hands in the air.

“Fine! Fine! Take the damn thing! His act wasn’t even that good!”

Sam rocked back on his heels, doing his best to not let his triumph show on his face. He needed to remain stoic and confident, poker face. This was a gamble, and he couldn’t accidentally tip his hand.

The man then shoved past them. “Caldwell!” he yelled. “Caldwell! Where are you?!”

“Are you sure about this?” Dean asked as they turned and followed the man out of the tent.

“I’m sure,” Sam said.

Caldwell turned out to be a strongman with shoulders twice as wide as Sam’s and a handlebar mustache that curled around his cheeks. He wore a tight one piece that showed off his chest and bulging quads. He grunted more than he spoke and studied the world through permanently narrowed eyes.

“Take them to the freak tent,” the man said. “I’m going to go smoke. I can’t handle this stress.”

Caldwell grunted.

The man stormed off, and Sam and Dean were left alone with the hulking strongman. Sam didn’t even flinch, instead holding his hand of cards close to his chest. Dean wasn’t exactly as calm.

“This way,” Caldwell grunted.

Sam entered the freak show tent the second time but now, Nadia was gone. Instead, Caldwell pushed his way to the back of the viewing area. All the performers cowered in their cages at the sight up him, retreating as far back into their cages as possible. Caldwell ignored them. Instead, he marched right up to Gabriel’s cage and grabbed the lock.

With his bare hands, Caldwell ripped it open, effectively breaking the locking mechanism inside. Then he yanked to door open, stooping to give the straps on Gabriel’s wings the same treatment.

Gabriel was shaking in fear, unable to run away like the other displays. Even with his wings free, he didn’t get a chance to cower to the back of his cage. Caldwell wrapped one beefy hand around Gabriel’s upper arm and dragged him out of the cage.

“Here,” Caldwell said, tossing the avem at Sam’s feet.

“Thank you,” Sam said politely. He waited until Caldwell stomped out of the tent before stooping to deal with the avem.

The thing cowered under his touch, skin shivering and twitching as Sam checked for cuts, scrapes, or broken bones. Other than the wings though, it looked like Gabriel was in good health. Well, traumatized out of his mind but physically healthy.

“Easy, easy,” Sam coaxed, gently taking Gabriel under the armpits.

Gabriel whimpered at the touch and went limp, not even supporting himself when Sam tried to set him on his feet. Even his wings hung limp on his back, twitching uselessly.

“You gotta stand,” Sam said. “Come on, I know you can do it.”

Gabriel shuddered but obeyed, stiffening his legs until he stayed upright without Sam’s support. He kept his eyes down and his hands limp at his sides.

“I’m going to take you home,” Sam explained, running his fingers down Gabriel’s shoulders and to the bases of his wings to check the bones there. “Alright. Do you understand me?”

Gabriel nodded, his wings flinching under Sam’s touches.

“I want to hear you speak,” Sam said.

“Understand,” Gabriel said quietly.

Sam nodded, satisfied with that. He was being stern, he knew that. But he needed to make sure Gabriel was alright. Avem were intelligent enough and Gabriel had physical health on his side. He needed structure and order more than anything, and being stern and maybe a little harsh was what Sam needed to do.

“Good,” Sam said. “If you can stand, you can walk.” He took Gabriel’s hand, wrapping it in his own. It was terrifyingly small in comparison, almost completely hidden by his own. “We’re going to go back to Dean’s house. He’s my brother. He has a place that I’m staying for a couple months, alright?”

“Alright,” Gabriel said quietly.

“Perfect,” Sam said and tugged Gabriel toward the entrance of the tent.

“No, not perfect,” Dean said, jogging to get to Sam’s side. “I’m pretty sure you can’t just _own_ an avem. There has to be some sort of legal process.”

“There’s no legal process,” Sam said. He knew the system well enough. “Nobody cares about one avem.”

Gabriel flinched when they entered the sunlight, hunching his shoulders down more and drawing his wings up tight. He squeezed Sam’s hand tighter, moving to walk slightly behind him in his shadow.

“Excuse me,” a woman said, approaching with a child in tow. “Is that the avem that performed? My little Stevie would love to be able to pet—”

“Not allowed,” Sam barked, not even giving her a second glance. “He’s no longer with the circus, and no, you cannot touch him.” He swept past the woman, shooting the child a glare before staring straight forward and looking at nothing.

The woman gasped and snorted, muttering something about uncultured people and germ-ridden avem.

“That was a little rude,” Dean said.

“A necessity,” Sam muttered.

Dean grunted and popped up the collar on his coat, hunching down almost as much as Gabriel.

They had to pay extra to the steam carriage driver when he said he had a strict ‘no animal’ policy, but soon they were on their way back to the Smithing with a shivering Gabriel in tow. The drive was done in mostly silence. Even the driver said nothing, didn’t even turn on the radio. It was just horribly silent. Gabriel squirmed after two minutes and couldn’t sit still after five. Sam ended up having to hold him in his lap and massage the place between his wings.

At the Smithing, Sam kept a good grip on Gabriel’s hand so he couldn’t dart off and get into heavy equipment. Gabriel looked too shy to get into any trouble, but Sam wasn’t taking any risks.

“You’ll be upstairs,” Sam explained to the terrified avem. “That’s where the bedrooms are. Are you hungry?”

“Food?” Gabriel said hopefully.

“Yes, food,” Sam said, leading the way up the stairs.

Dean wandered off into the back of the shop, and Sam didn’t really question why. Dealing with Gabriel was the priority. They went upstairs by themselves, and Sam led the way into the living room.

“First things first,” Sam said, sitting Gabriel down on the couch. “Stay.”

In the kitchen, he rummaged through the cupboard until he found a package of cream-filled biscuits that had to be sweet and delicious. He ripped them open and carried it back to the living room, relieved to see Gabriel in the same place as before.

“Here,” he said, passing over one biscuit.

Gabriel snatched it up and stuffed it into his mouth, chewing and swallowing quickly. He followed Sam’s hand, clearing looking for more.

“I need to make sure you’re okay,” Sam said. “And that brief pat-down at the circus wasn’t enough. I need you to undress.”

Gabriel jumped up, almost eagerly, fumbling with the awkward straps on his costume. Sam was a little uncomfortable with how quickly he agreed to undress but ignored it. Was sexual favors in the circus common? Must be with all the freaks and fetishes.

As soon as Gabriel was naked in front of him, Sam gave him another biscuit which he quickly ate.

“I need to see your wings,” Sam said. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to do anything to them. Not like the circus man.”

Gabriel shivered but nodded and turned around. He braced his hands on the couch and spread his wings loosely. Again, Sam was uncomfortable with how quickly he obliged.

“Stay,” Sam said, turning to the bedroom that was his. He rummaged through his bags until he found the textbook he had brought with him. He walked back to the living room, flipping through the pages until he found the diagrams for avem wings. He set the book down on the coffee table and turned back to Gabriel.

Sam started at the base of the wings. Up the coracoid and down the scapula. The humerus and radius were fine. The ulna, radiale, and ulnare were all okay as well. Sam carefully felt around the metacarpus and that’s where he shuddered.

Just as he suspected. Both the basal and terminal phalanx were missing, meaning the primary feathers that grew off of those bones would be missing as well.

Sam let his hands drop and moved to the other wing. He found the exact same thing there too. He shuddered to think of what sort of process the circus went through to do the procedure. Did Gabriel even get anesthetic? What methods were taken to prevent blood loss? Hell, even a gulp of whiskey would’ve been better than nothing. Although Sam had no idea how alcohol would affect avem.

“Alright, done,” he said.

Gabriel’s wings dropped and he turned eagerly, probably looking for another biscuit. Sam obliged him, handing over two cookies. Gabriel ate them just as quick as before.

“I’m going to get you clothes,” Sam said. “Because you’re not going to be wearing that weird outfit anymore.”

Gabriel nodded, still watching his hands for more treats.

Sam sighed and returned to his bedroom. He grabbed a pair of his boxers and one of his button-up shirts that was older and going threadbare. They were things that he could live without. With the items in hand, he returned to the living room.

Getting Gabriel dressed was another affair in and of itself. Gabriel shivered at the sight of the shirt and flared his wings.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Sam reassured. “Look, I’ll cut holes for your wings. It’ll be fine.”

Gabriel pouted and fidgeted and finally climbed on top of couch.

“Hey, hey,” Sam said. “Don’t make this difficult. If you stay here, you’re wearing clothes.”

Gabriel slumped but let Sam put the underwear on him. It was a little loose around his waist but Sam tied the strings and it stayed up. He then went to the kitchen and grabbed a scissors, approximating where Gabriel’s wings would be before cutting two decent sized holes.

Gabriel pouted even more at the shirt but sat still long enough to let Sam pull it on.

“Good boy,” Sam said, giving him two biscuits for his trouble. “Your wings look fine. You’re just a little underfed but that can be fixed with food. I don’t see any scrapes or bruises or broken bones. Other than the . . . . . clipping, you look good.”

Gabriel wrinkled his nose at the words. “Good?” he repeated. “Good?”

Sam gave him an odd look, glad that the avem was speaking. That had to be a good sign, right? “Yes,” he said. “Good health-wise.”  

Gabriel hissed, suddenly, and stooped, grabbing the pillows off the couch and flinging them at Sam. Sam had to duck and cover his head and thankfully, only one hit his shoulder and the impact was soft. But Gabriel didn’t give up there.

He jumped over the back of the couch and bolted towards the kitchen, clambering up onto the counters. He started ripping open drawers, scooping out silverware and whatever was inside, dumping it on the floor. From drawer to drawer to drawer, he moved, shrieking and thrashing his wings.

“Hey, hey!” Sam said, rushing to grab Gabriel before he could cause any more havoc. He grabbed the avem around the waist, struggling to contain the struggling. “Gabriel! Gabriel! What’s wrong?!”

“Good!” Gabriel yelled. “Good! Good! I’m good! Nothing bad has ever happened to Gabriel! I am good!”

“I didn’t mean it like that!” Sam said. He managed to pin Gabriel’s arms to his sides in a bear hug, but that was only half helpful. Gabriel still had his wings. “I meant that you aren’t hurt! Physically!”

Gabriel went limp in his grip and growled, sounding more like a puppy than a dog.

“You’re going to be fine,” Sam said. Sternly, matter-of-fact. “You’re not fine now, but you will be.”

That seemed to appease Gabriel. He slumped, letting his wings go limp. He hung his head and only stomped his foot once. Sam gave him that, since he was angry, and didn’t reprimand him. He didn’t let him go though. Instead, he scooped Gabriel up completely and carried him to the bedroom.

Gabriel was still pouting as Sam set him down on the bed and didn’t move even when Sam backed away. Sam was wondering if he should grab the package of biscuits when Gabriel circled a couple times in the middle of the bed and curled up, draping his wings over himself as blankets. He flopped them over his face too, clearly indicating that any sort of conversation was over.

Sam sighed but let him be. Doing that brief physical check-up was good enough for now. When Gabriel woke up next, he would probably be hungry, and Sam could use food as a bargaining chip to maybe get more information out of him. He thought about draping a blanket over Gabriel but figured that would only tangle in his wings so he left him alone. He double checked the locks in the window, satisfied they would hold, and then walked out of the room, closing and locking the door behind him.

He returned to the living room, picking up the remnants of Gabriel's performance costume and balled it up. Sam wanted to throw it into the furnace downstairs so he would never have to look at it ever again. He was just starting down the stairs when Dean called out to him.

“Is the avem under control?”

“Yeah,” Sam called back. “He's sleeping.”

Dean was in the forge area of the Smithing, shirt off and apron on, holding a hammer in one hand. The broken wings from this morning were spread across his work table. He looked like he had been about to start pounding away.

Sam offered the balled up clothes to him, and he wrinkled his nose.

“What's that?”

“Burn it,” Sam said instead of answering. “Don't need it anymore.”

Dean shrugged and took the garment, tossing it without ceremony into the glowing embers of the forge. It burned fast and hot and was gone before Sam had a chance to change his mind.

“He's in my room,” Sam explained. “Doors and windows are locked. I'll check up on him at bedtime but I'll be sleeping on the couch if I need to.”

“He's not going to, like, kill us in our sleep, right?” Dean asked, using the back of the hammer to rip out the nails holding a twisted metal slate in place.

“He's an avem,” Sam said.

“I've seen avem fight,” Dean said, shoved the worst end of the metal into the embers. “They are vicious.”

“Well, I'll make sure he won't then,” Sam said.

“Good,” Dean said, leaving the metal in the fire to grab a pair of gloves off a hook on the other side of the room. He pulled them on, stretching them all the way up to his elbows. He walked back to his place next to the forge. “And what are you going to do about food?”

“Avem eat basically anything,” Sam said. “It won’t be hard to find something for him.”

Dean grunted, adding several logs of wood onto the fire beneath the forge. He used a patchwork pair of bellows to fan the flames higher before reaching into the cauldron of coals to grab the protruding end of the metal.

He wrenched it out and slammed it down on the anvil, hoisting his hammer over his head and bringing it down with a near-deafening bang. Apparently the conversation was over.

Sam turned away from the work area, to protect both his eyes and ears from the metal work, and figured he’d better check up on Gabriel if the noise was leaking upstairs. He knew avem were usually light sleepers but if Gabriel was tired enough, it was possible he could sleep through the noise if it were muffled enough.

He walked quickly up the stairs, taking them two at a time near the top. He had just reached the top landing when he heard the crash and screech of anger. He quickened his pace, rushing back to the bedroom where he had left Gabriel. He fumbled with the lock for a moment and then ripped the door open.

Gabriel was hanging from the ceiling, swinging from the exposed beams with his wings slung wide. He beat the air wildly, stirring up a windstorm in the room that sent the blankets and sheets flying and the dresser and desk wobbling on their legs, probably what had caused the crash. Despite their stubbier than normal lengths, the wings were able to kick up quite the gust.

“Gabriel, get down from there!” Sam yelled, immediately jumping on the bed and reaching up to snatch Gabriel down from his perch.

When he did manage to get his hands around Gabriel’s waist, he had to yank hard and more than once just to get the avem down. Gabriel clung to the ceiling like it were a lifeline, screeching in protest and beating his wings harder. Sam took several hits to the face and shoulders, knowing that bruises would be showing up later. With one final heave, he yanked Gabriel completely down, catching him in his arms and losing his balance.

He fell onto the bed, thankfully, cushioned by the pillows and blankets. Gabriel fell on top of him, landing on his chest and stomach and finally going still. Sam was glad for that. He wasn’t sure if he could chase down the avem with the wind knocked out of him.

They laid there for a while, both breathing hard from the brief struggle. Gabriel’s wings fell limp around them, and Sam was shocked by the softness of the feathers. He always thought they would be tough and stiff for flying. But then again, it wasn’t like Gabriel needed his for flying anyway. Maybe his were different.

“How about this,” Sam said when he had caught his breath. “You sleep for tonight. You eat in the morning. And then, I’ll take you out to meet the other avem of the city. What do you think?”

Gabriel huffed, kneading Sam’s chest as he stared down, avoiding Sam’s face. “Fine,” he said.

Sam laid back with a sigh of relief. “Good,” he said. “I don’t think you’re ready to go out by yourself anyway.”

Gabriel chittered at him and pushed away. “Nest,” he said. “Wanna nest.”

Sam had never had the chance to observe avem sleeping habitats. He knew they liked high up places and collected the softest things to line wherever they slept, but actually being able to study where and how they slept, that would be interesting indeed.

“Well, how do you usually go about making a nest?” Sam asked, sitting up on the bed.

Gabriel narrowed his eyes at him but quickly shooed him off the bed. He then gathered the top blankets and stood, looking back up at the overhead beams. He bounced on the soles of his feet twice before crouching and launching himself into the air. He snagged one hand on the beam, beating his wings frantically before he managed to scramble all the way up.

He balanced precariously, swaying back and forth dangerously before choosing a corner and scurrying over. He stuffed the blankets into the cracks, forming a rough hammock that Sam was pretty sure wouldn’t stay up for too long. Then Gabriel scrambling back to the beams above the bed and dropped back down.

He gathered the pillows and sheets this time, repeating the whole process of jumping back up again. As he worked, the nest began taking shape, looking more and more stable the longer he took, and when he finally climbed in and curled up, it didn’t fall down at all.

Sam stared up at him, impressed.

“Happy?” he asked.

Gabriel peeked over the edge of his nest and shot him a look. “Happy,” he repeated.

“Good,” Sam said. “I’ll let you sleep up there tonight, but you should really try a bed.”

Gabriel stuck out his tongue and rolled over, showing Sam his back. He draped his wings over the edges of the nest, letting them dangle and relax as he settled down for sleep.

Satisfied he wasn’t going to cause any other trouble, Sam stripped off his evening clothes and into something more comfortable for bed. While there was still time for a cigar or a glass of whiskey before bed, Sam didn’t feel safe leaving Gabriel by himself again. So he unpacked more sheets, blankets, and pillows from the chest by the foot of the bed and readied his own sleeping area.

The clang from the hammer and the forge was muffled by the floors and walls, a faint rhythm that acted as white noise. It wasn’t too bothersome, and after studying the way Gabriel’s wings drifted and swayed hanging mid-air, Sam was able to fall asleep for himself.

 


	4. Chapter 4

The next day was started far too early for Sam’s liking. After a night on the town, he would have preferred to sleep in until lunch time and have tea and biscuits instead of breakfast. But he was woken before the sun with Gabriel screeching from the rafters of the room, jumping from beam to beam and beating the air with his wings.

When he saw that Sam was awake, he stilled, sitting on one rafter with his wings drawn up high and tight. His feathers fluttered with irritation, and he glared down at Sam.

“Food!” he said, pounding a fist against the wood. “Hungry!”

Sam glared up at him, ready to fling a pillow up at him. Very, very tempted to throw a pillow. “Quiet!” he said. “I’m up, okay?”

Gabriel snapped his mouth shut and pulled his wings in tight, prowling back and forth on his beam. He glared back at Sam.

Sam rolled his eyes and pushed his blankets aside, rolling out of bed and to his feet. He needed to get dressed for today and it was going to be busy and hectic. And a hassle if Gabriel was as cooperative as he had been yesterday. He was just pulled his shirt off over his head when Gabriel landed on his bed with a thump, having jumped from the rafters.

Sam dressed quickly in a day suit and vest, making sure his sleeves were rolled up and out of the way so he could deal with Gabriel.

When he turned back to the avem, Gabriel was already out of the shirt and boxers that he had slept in, probably copying Sam. But he had no other clothes to put on. So he was sitting on the bed, naked, stubby wings splayed out behind him.

Sam crossed his arms and tapped his foot. “Do you want to start with a bath?” he asked. “Since your clothes are off? Or do you want to start with breakfast?”

Gabriel perked up at the mention of food and in a moment, scrambled back into the clothes. He struggled a little to get his wings through the holes Sam had cut last night, but he managed it, popping them out and then standing at attention.

“Food,” he demanded.

Sam resisted the urge to roll his eyes, instead turning to the door he had locked during the night. “Let’s see what Dean has in his cupboards.”

Gabriel bounded after him as he left the room, his feet echoing on the wooden floor. Sam almost grabbed his arm as he darted past but remembered what it was like getting battered by those wings last night and thought better of it. He let the avem go, instead wondering if Dean was up already or if he was in for a rude awakening.

As it turned out, Dean was already awake and in the kitchen, sipping on a mug of coffee that smelled so strong it took over the entire kitchen. He looked up from the newspaper he was reading as they entered and smirked when Gabriel nearly backpedaled out of the room, hands over his nose. He ran right into Sam's arms though before darting under his grasp and retreating to the living room. He climbed on top of the couch and perched there, wings ruffled in agitation.

“You’re up early,” Dean said, not remarking about the avem.

Sam let Gabriel sit where he was, too tired for that kind of fight. Instead, he grabbed a cup of coffee as well, drinking it straight black, and sat down across from Dean.

“Early because of him,” Sam said, jerking a thumb at Gabriel. “He wants food. Apparently.”

Gabriel chirped at them, fluttering his wings to keep his balance on the couch. He still didn't venture any closer, the smell of coffee apparently being enough to deter him.

“Well,” Dean said, setting his paper and mug down and pushing away from the table. “I can see what I've got. What do avem even eat?”

“They're omnivores,” Sam said, watching Dean move across the room and dig through the ice box and pantry. “So anything I think. Mostly fruits and vegetables but if they can catch meat, they'll eat it.”

That was an unneeded 'if.’ Sam had witnessed a flock of a dozen or so avem take down a buffalo while over in the States. It had been bloody and vicious and stomach turning. They had devoured the entire thing and proceeded to play with its bones and fur. Sam had taken reluctant notes while trying to keep his lunch down.

“Eggs, toast, and bacon is what I'm willing to put together,” Dean said.

Sam looked over to where Gabriel was craning his neck, trying to see what Dean was doing, and figured that would be fine. And if he could convince the avem to drink some water as well, that would be even better. So he nodded at Dean, who cut a huge cube of butter into his skillet and set it to heat, and grabbed the paper for himself.

As he expected, the circus was still the top story on the front back with several professional photographs of the grounds and some even of the performers laid out along with the article. Underneath that were several other, much smaller articles about different political happenings, peoples of importance, and other small events. Nothing too interesting but it was something to read while Dean cooked. He was completely immersed in the circus article—no mention of Gabriel at all, not surprisingly—when the avem in question chirped and trilled, beating his wings for attention.

“What?” Sam asked, setting the paper down and looking over to Gabriel.

“Hungry!” the avem declared, flaring his wings.

“I know,” Sam said. “And Dean is cooking something.”

“Hungry!” Gabriel declared again.

“I know,” Sam repeated, his tone firmer this time. “And you'll have to wait.”

Gabriel snorted and stood up on the back of the couch. He crossed his arms and went cross-eyed, strutting across the back with his wings pulled tight.

“I'm Sam,” he said in a stupid tone. “I'm Sam. Wait for food. You have to wait.”

Dean barked out a laugh from his place at the wood stove, and Sam shot him a glare. Gabriel dropped back down into a crouch, grinning proudly at his imitation. He chirped and twittered as Dean continued to laugh. Sam rolled his eyes, having half a mind to roll up the newspaper and go after Gabriel just to teach him a lesson. But no, that wouldn't help the avem. So he let him has his fun. For now.

“Order up!” Dean said, swinging the skillet around to the table and setting it down on a potholder. He slid three plates down next, scooping generous helpings of the egg-bacon scramble onto them. He looked to Gabriel and waved a plate temptingly at him. “You gonna come eat?”

Gabriel narrowed his eyes and beat his wings, wrinkling his nose and frowning. Finally, after debating with himself over it, he jumped down from the couch and crept slowly into the kitchen, slinking along the wall as flat as he would go.

Dean slid Sam's plate down to him and took his seat again, pulling his own plate to himself and digging in. Sam picked up his fork and was about to do the same when Gabriel pounced onto the table, scattering the pages of the paper in the wind of his wings and scarfing down huge gulps of his scramble without using his hands.

“Gabriel!” Sam yelled, jumping up from his seat as his cup of coffee tipped over, spilling across the table and almost onto his lap.

Dean did the same thing, spitting out a curse around his mouthful of food.

Gabriel ignored their shouting, instead choosing to gulp down as much of his food as fast as possible. Then, seeing that Sam had apparently abandoned his own plate, he dove for that too, snorting and slobbering and barely taking time to chew or breathe.

“Gabriel!” Sam yelled again, both disgusted and appalled at the avem’s behavior. He had never seen an avem act so savagely around food before. “Bad! Down! Off the table!”

He lunged forward, hoping to catch Gabriel around the waist and drag him down. But Gabriel saw him coming and dove out of the way, shrieking and flailing his wings as he retreated to the living room. He was trying to fly but not making it very far. He floundered into the corner and half way up the wall before losing his momentum and crashing back down, out of breath with bits of egg and bacon sticking to his face.

The table was an equal mess, coffee spilled, the newspaper scattered, and bits of breakfast everywhere. Dean was glaring across the room at Gabriel, looking madder by the second. Sam jumped to intervene before he could explode.

“I got it!” he said, rushing out of the kitchen and making his way slowly towards Gabriel. “Easy, easy,” he coaxed when the avem looked even more panicked than before. “I don't want to hurt you.”

“Damn avem,” Dean muttered. “I'll have to make more coffee.”

Sam rolled his eyes and directed all his attention to Gabriel. “Are you still hungry?” he offered. “Or do you want a bath?”

Gabriel made a face at the mention of a bath but didn't ask for more food. Instead, he trilled nervously, pulling his wings in close and wrapping them around himself for protection.

“You're getting a bath whether you like it or not,” Sam said sternly. He had seen avem bathe before, very similar to birds. He wouldn't force Gabriel into a shower but setting him in a tub of water and letting him do the rest would be more than enough.

“I'm Sam,” Gabriel said, tick-tocking his head back and forth. “I'm Sam and I think you need a bath.”

“That's because you do, you idiot,” Sam said.

Gabriel huffed but relaxed a bit, no longer looking like he would fight or try to run.

“How about this,” Sam said. “You take a bath, and I'll let you go outside to meet the other avem. Huh? That sound interesting to you?”

Gabriel perked up immediately at the mention of other avem and he nodded eagerly. He crept forward, letting his wings fall open and finally opening his arms to Sam, waiting to be picked up.

Grateful that he wasn't going to resist, Sam scooped him up and headed toward the bathroom. It was odd, carrying an avem. Gabriel was much lighter than he looked, even with his wings draping down his back. And he was warm, very warm. Just holding him felt like curling up with a hot water bottle on a winter night. He constantly seemed to be chirping or muttering under his breath, pointless, meaningless words that made no sense to Sam. Just stuff about his surroundings or outside, the sky and different air currents, especially about the weather.

“Here we are,” Sam said as they arrived in the tiled room.

He plopped Gabriel onto the toilet and, after making sure he would sit still, he turned to the tub and got the water to the right temperature. He then plugged the tub and sat back to let it fill.

“Undress,” he told Gabriel once it got half full.

In truth, the academic side of him was itching with curiosity to study Gabriel in a way that he hadn’t had the chance to do with wild avems. Anatomy was always a hard subject in his studies do to the lack of exploration in that area. Sure, there had been some autopsies here and there and of course there were hundreds of sketches of avem to look at. But being able to see it in first person was still a unique experience.

An experience that Sam was about to get as he watched Gabriel pull the oversized shirt off and eagerly kicked off the boxers Sam had given him before.

Anatomically speaking, avem were mostly human. Gabriel, as a specimen, was scrawny and boney, ribs and knees and elbows jutting out in an unhealthy way. His chest and hips were both narrow and aerodynamic, and his wings were a mix of gold-ish tan and brown. They were awkwardly short and stubby, but still maintained the elbow joint, meaning he could still bend and flare them for basic avem body language.

Without complaint and without noticing Sam’s probing gaze, Gabriel jumped forward into the water, sloshing it dangerously close to the edge. Before Sam could offer him a washcloth or sponge, Gabriel dunked his head under the water, tucking his wings in so that he was entirely under the water before reemerging. He fluttered his feathers very much like a bird, splattering Sam with droplets and then dunking his head back under, repeating the process all over.

He scrubbed his face with his hands, rubbing his eyes free of water and wringing out his hair. He then twisted, giving more attention to his wings and feathers. He finger-combed through them, paying extra attention to the bases and occasionally pausing to dunk them back under water and flutter them dry.

“Soap?” Sam offered awkwardly when Gabriel didn’t make any move to use anything other than his fingers and water.

Gabriel turned up his nose at the bar that Sam tried to give him, instead choosing to dunk himself back under water and ruffle his feathers like before this time, though, making a much bigger splash. Sam narrowed his eyes, wondering if he could do that on purpose. Gabriel only gave him a cheeky grin.

“Are you done yet?” Sam asked.

Gabriel cooed and dunked his wings again, fluffing up the feathers. And then he clambered out of the tub, soaking wet, and shook his entire body.

“God!” Sam said, bringing his hands to protect his face from the water. “We have towels!”

Gabriel only chirped and fluffed up his wet feathers, looking more like a drowned rat than an avem. Before Sam could throw a towel over him or dry him off in any way, Gabriel lunged passed him for the door, slipping out and turning down the hall.

“Hey!” Sam yelled, turning after him. He swung around the corner just in time to see Gabriel’s ass disappearing into the kitchen with a flick of his wings.

“Oh! Fuck!” Dean yelled a moment later.

And then Gabriel was skidding back around the corner, panic and terror on his face as he fled back to the safety of Sam’s arms. A moment later, Dean was skidding around the corner too, the newspaper rolled up in his hand and his face twisted in rage.

“Come here, you little shit,” he snarled.

Gabriel squealed in alarm and dove behind Sam, clutching at Sam’s legs. He chirped at Dean, teasing and triumphant, apparently thinking that now that he was with Sam, he was safe.

“Dean, stop it,” Sam said, trying to be the mediator between the two.

“Tell him not to run through my house buck-ass naked,” Dean said, pointing the end of the newspaper down at Gabriel. “If he doesn’t want his ass beat.”

“Dean,” Sam said, more sternly that before. He felt like an adult dealing with children. “Leave him alone.”

“Fine,” Dean said, shaking the newspaper one last time at Gabriel. “But get some pants on him. The next time I see his dick, I’m kicking him out.”

Sam gritted his teeth but let Dean have that. It was somewhat reasonable. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll deal with him. Just be careful because I don’t want him getting scared.”

Dean only rolled his eyes but gave up the fight, tossing the newspaper aside and storming back toward the kitchen. “I’m going down to the forge,” he called over his shoulder. “Don’t let that thing near my work!”

Sam turned and gave Gabriel a stern look. “You hear that?” he said. “Don’t mess with Dean’s work. It’s very important to him, and it’s very dangerous for you.”

Gabriel chirped and popped up to his feet. “I’m Sam,” he parroted, propping his hands on his hips. “I’m Sam and that’s dangerous.”

“I’m serious,” Sam said.

“I’m serious,” Gabriel repeated.

“Let’s get some clean clothes on you,” Sam said, giving up on the argument. He had never had the chance to interact with an avem so personally before and it had never occurred to him that they could be so expressive. And annoying.

At least Gabriel followed him as he walked back to the bedroom. Sam really didn’t want to ruin another one of his good dress shirts but it didn’t look like he had any other choice really. With a sigh, Sam opened the dresser drawer, choose one of his white button downs, and turned back to Gabriel.

“Come here,” he said, gesturing to the bed.

Gabriel obediently hopped up onto the mattress and actually sat still long enough for Sam to measure the spots where his wings would go. He used a sharp pair of sewing scissors to cut big enough holes and then helped Gabriel pull it on, threading his wings into place. He gave the avem another pair of his underwear, taking a moment to regret not bringing more of his clothes from the states.

Perhaps, when he fulfilled his promise of taking Gabriel out later today, he could take some pocket change and buy a couple new items.

Speaking of items, Sam would need some sort of harness or leash to keep Gabriel under control. While he couldn’t fly, he had already proven that if he wanted to, making a mad, wild dash to an idea of freedom was completely within reason.

Dean probably had some leftover strips of leather that Sam could fashion into something downstairs. He would just have to ask.

“Stay here,” he told Gabriel. He closed and locked the door behind him just in case anyway and headed down the stairs.

The Smithing was already ringing with the strikes of metal-on-metal, signaling that Dean had found something to take his frustration out on. Sam winced at the piercing sting but held back from covering his ears, instead moving carefully forward until he could spot where Dean was working. Sam certainly didn’t want to startle him while he was holding something so hot or dangerous.

“Hey!” he called, keeping a distance until Dean paused in his work and flipped his mask up, glancing over to where Sam stood.

“Yeah?” he said. Apparently his outburst was long forgotten.

“I need some leather,” Sam said, already looking around the work area. “To make a harness for Gabriel. Or a leash or something. I promised to take him outside and I don’t want him running off.”

Dean gestured vaguely to a corner with his hammer and then flipped his mask back down. “Over there,” he said, his voice slightly muffled. “Help yourself.”

Sam obliged, walking over to the pile of leather scraps and picking through for the best and longest ones. When he figured he had enough to safely secure Gabriel, at least in his mind, he straightened and gave Dean a wide berth, not bothering to say goodbye and interrupt his work again. He made his way back upstairs and back to the bedroom.

Gabriel was chewing glumly on one of the pillows, looking beyond bored. He barely even looked up when Sam walked in, instead focusing on tearing the seams apart with his teeth.

“Hey, stop that,” Sam said, depositing all the scraps he had taken on the foot of the bed. “Here, I want to make you something to keep you from running off.”

Gabriel perked up with interest and abandoned the pillow. He crawled down the bed, cocking his head curiously as Sam worked.

Sam did his best to guess the measurements, sure that the moment he made Gabriel try it on, the avem would protest. Thankfully, he seemed more curious than anything at the moment. Sam worked quickly, tying the strips as tightly as he could in the best pattern. Finally, he had some sort of harness to work with that felt sturdy enough too.

“Come here,” he said, holding it up for Gabriel to see. “We gotta get this on you.”

Immediately, Gabriel pulled back, drawing his wings up and narrowing his eyes. He let out a high pitched whine and shook his head. He bared his teeth and gave a whole-body shiver then, flaring his wings and fluffing up his feathers.

“No,” he said plainly. “No, no, no.”

Sam felt his stomach sink as he realized his mistake. “No, Gabriel,” he said, trying to amend his mistake. “It’s not anything bad. It’s something to help you. It won’t hurt you!”

“No!” Gabriel yelled, louder than before. He scrambled away from Sam and then tried to launch himself up into the rafters. He didn’t make it very high and came crashing back down into Sam’s arms.

Sam took the moment to wrestle the avem down, pinning him on his back so that his wings were less of a problem. Gabriel struggled for a moment longer before going limp, panting heavily and refusing to meet Sam’s gaze.

“Easy, easy,” Sam coaxed, slipping the harness around Gabriel’s shoulders and tightening quickly. “There we go. See? Not bad.”

Gabriel was still limp on the bed, unmoving. His wings were flopped open and his head twisted sideways to press into the pillows. To Sam’s surprise, as he sat back, he realized that the avem was crying, no, sobbing into the fabric.

“I’m sorry,” he was saying, whispering the words softly. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“I’m not angry,” Sam said, trying to calm the avem back down. “Just breathe, Gabriel. Look, it’s not hurting you. I’m not hurting you.”

Gabriel seemed to pull himself together, at least just a bit to hoist himself upright and paw at the straps across his chest. Sam let him go at it for a moment until his arms flopped uselessly to his sides and he finally accepted his fate.

“Good,” Sam praised. “Good boy. See? It isn’t so bad. And with this, we can go outside. You want to go outside, right, Gabriel?”

“Not outside,” Gabriel mumbled. He rolled onto his hands and knees and twitched his wings, still not looking up at Sam. “Don’t want that.”

“You were excited about it before,” Sam said.

Gabriel only shook his head. “No,” he said again. “Not outside.”

Sam sighed but decided not to push him. “Okay,” he said. “We don’t have to go outside. But you can wear the harness for the rest of the day, just so you can get used to it. Does that sound okay and fair to you?”

Gabriel sniffed and wiped his nose and cheeks on the back of one hand. He climbed off the bed, tugging absentmindedly at the harness and letting his wings droop and trail behind him. He paced in slow circles around the room, occasionally pausing to stomp a foot.

“I’m Sam,” he mumbled. “I’m Sam and I’m mean. I don’t like Gabriel because I am mean.”

“I gave you food,” Sam said, feeling awkward enough to defend himself. “And a bath. I’d say that makes me less mean and nicer. Wouldn’t you say?”

Gabriel looked up at him with narrowed eyes, but then he smirked playfully. “I’m Sam,” he repeated, louder and less grouchy. He puffed out his chest and strutted in circles. “I’m Sam and I make Gabriel wear stupid clothes.”

“I’m Gabriel,” Sam said, unable to resist the opportunity. “I’m Gabriel and I like to run around the house naked.”

Gabriel snorted and then chirped at him, indignantly rustling his wings and rolling his eyes.

Satisfied that Gabriel was feeling better and significantly less traumatized, Sam stood and brushed off his pants.

“I’m going to read,” he told Gabriel. “And when you get bored of spending the entire day indoors and come to me begging for something to do, I am going to say ‘I told you so.’”

Gabriel wrinkled his nose, instead crawling back onto the bed. He bounced a few times before gaining enough momentum to launch himself up into the rafters, where he quickly made his way to his sleeping nest. He stuck out his tongue at Sam and then curled up to go to sleep.

Sam rolled his eyes and made his way out of the bedroom, this time choosing not to close or lock it. He had some reading to do if he wanted to do his best to help Gabriel. He had both his personal notes and the few textbooks he had brought along to get through before Gabriel became bored of the inside and demanded some sort of entertainment.

And Sam was almost dreading when that happened.

 


	5. When They Go Outside

Gabriel did indeed get bored a couple hours later and he made sure to let Sam know, flapping his wings and squawking loudly as he bounded around the living room.

Sam had been lounging in the living room, reading through his textbooks looking for more information about avem wings when Gabriel had snuck up behind him and declared his boredom. Sam had been making good progress too. He had constructed several sketches of Gabriel’s wings from observation and memory to compare to other diagrams. With the pictures side-by-side, it was overly obvious that Gabriel’s wings were too short to be any help.

“Bored!” the avem in question declared. He jumped over the back of the couch, landing on the arm farthest from Sam and giving him a cautious look. He wrinkled his nose at all the books and papers but didn’t come any closer. At least he was still wearing the harness.

“I offered to take you outside,” Sam said. “And you didn’t want that.” It was odd to be carrying on a full conversation with an avem, but Sam found that it was hard _not_ to talk to Gabriel like a human. He was anthropomorphizing him already.

Gabriel sniffed and narrowed his eyes. “Fine,” he said, sitting down on the couch arm. “Fine. This is fine.” He tapped a hand against the harness straps and stuck his nose in the air.

“You’re ready to try the harness?” Sam said.

And okay, he was excited. While avem could be trained for basic tasks like looking out on a ship or being a guard dog for a store or shop, they were almost never kept as domestic pets. Plus, Sam was an academic in a strange, new field. Any chance for a close-up study of a subject as elusive as an avem was a chance that Sam would take.

He quickly refrained from smiling and instead pulled out a longer, thicker strip of leather that he intended on tying to the back of the harness Gabriel was already wearing.

Gabriel almost pulled away at the sight of another strip of leather but held still long enough for Sam to tie it into place. He gave it a few experimental tugs, satisfied it wasn’t coming undone, and then gave Gabriel a minute to adjust.

“Ready?” he said.

Gabriel glared at him but didn’t say anything, so Sam took that as a good sign. He tried giving the leash a couple more tugs, seeing if he could direct Gabriel in a direction of his choosing, or pull him away from whatever he was interested in.

Gabriel snapped his head around at him and glared so venomously that Sam almost dropped the leash. He then caught himself and wrapped it twice around his hand, just to improve his grip. Just in case.

“Okay, I won’t do that,” he said, not sure if Gabriel would ever lunge or attack. “Do you still want to go outside?”

Gabriel snorted and then chirped and nodded.

With Gabriel on the leash, Sam was beginning to see much more and more problems. Sure, avem were bipedal and had the physical ability to walk on their hind legs—and did so occasionally—they preferred moving more akin to an ape or monkey. More often than not, Gabriel would drop to his palms and the balls of his feet when moving, creeping on all fours and using his wings for cover and protection.

Wild avem, ones not confined to a house or under a sort of roof, flew more than they walked anyway. Sam had observed them hopping and fluttering their wings to move short distances, but hardly ever did they stand completely upright and walk.

The problem, was that Gabriel moved in jerks and bounds, the leash either falling awkwardly down his back between his wings or getting tangled around his throat. Even as they made their way to the front door, the leash twisted and got caught in his wings three separate times. Every time earned Sam a dark glare.

“I’m sorry,” he said, not sure what he was supposed to do to appease the avem. “You’ll just have to deal with it.”

Gabriel’s mood improved almost immediately the moment they were outside. He perked up, sniffed and trying to explore everything. The leash got even more in the way then, but Gabriel didn’t seem to care. He was too busy sniffing at the bushes and trees lining the street, peering at every street sign and car.

Sam certainly got plenty of looks, walking an avem down the street on the end of a leash and harness. He did his best to ignore them, but if anyone pressed for more information, Sam told them he was a professor studying avem behavioral patterns. That was enough to avoid any other questions.

When they reached the plaza, with all the other avem, Gabriel’s attitude seemed to shift. To Sam’s surprise, he was even more scared then before, pulling back and then hiding completely behind Sam’s legs. He crouched down, making himself small and pulling his wings in tight.

“What’s wrong?” Sam asked.

Just then, several other avem flew down to investigate them. One, Sam recognized. It was the black feathered one that Dean had talked to the first day Sam was here. Cas, if Sam remembered correctly. Gabriel seemed hesitant to greet them, even though they seemed extremely interested in him.

Besides Cas, there was another avem with similar golden wings that looked female. The other was another male, with dull brown wings. They all crowded around Sam, trying to get a look at Gabriel, chirping and cooing at him.

Gabriel clicked back, hesitantly creeping out from behind Sam. He fluttered his wings, spreading them for the other avem.

And they returned the gesture. Their own wings, though, were much longer and more elegant. They ended in sweeping primaries instead of stubs, like Gabriel’s.

Sam watched in fascinated awe as Cas approached first, tilting his head as he tried to get a better look at Gabriel’s wings. Gabriel yelped when another avem circled behind him and grabbed at his feathers. He yanked his wings up and out of their reach, narrowing his eyes.

Cas gave his signature harsh caw and turned around, fully opening his wings to Gabriel. He did a half-shimmy-half-shake, looking over his shoulder to see if Gabriel noticed. When Gabriel didn’t respond, Cas turned back around, wrapping his wings around himself in an umbrella shape and poking his head out the top. He wiggled back and forth in an obvious attempt to seduce.

Gabriel was completely uninterested, turning up his nose at Cas’s dancing. Instead, he turned to the female avem and wiggled his own wings. He raised himself onto his feet and hopped back and forth. He tried spreading his wings the same as Cas. But they weren’t the same as Cas’s. They were significantly stubbier and much less impressive. Still, he did his best with what he had, but the female avem turned up her nose and flew away.

Gabriel looked, frankly, heartbroken.

Cas cackled and nearly toppled over from his laughing, giving Gabriel one last flash of his full black wings and then taking off for himself. The last male avem followed quickly after, but not before giving Gabriel one last look of disgust.

Gabriel slumped against the cobblestones, staring up at them as they retreated to the tops of the buildings. He fluttered his own wings briefly, but he didn’t try to take off. As if he knew that he wouldn’t get anywhere even if he tried.

Sam actually felt bad for him.

“Hey,” he said. “Do you want to get something to eat?”

Gabriel cooed and wrapped himself up in his wings, not even reacting when Sam gave the leash a gentle tug. He didn’t move, instead worrying the tips of his wings between his fingers, tugging at the feathers and threatening to pull them out.

“Hey, hey,” Sam said. “Don’t do that.”

He stooped down, gathering the leash in one hand so that it wouldn’t dangle and then scooped Gabriel up in one go. Again, the avem’s weight—or lack thereof—surprised Sam. He could throw Gabriel over his shoulder with very little trouble if he wanted. But he didn’t. Instead, he tucked Gabriel close to his chest, carefully arranging his wings so that they wouldn’t be cramped at all.

“Here we go,” he muttered, carrying Gabriel back down the street, away from the plaza. “I know something that will cheer you up.”

Gabriel didn’t even move his head or twitch his wings. He only whimpered and tried to cuddle closer to Sam’s chest.

“Easy, easy,” Sam said. “Here, you stay here and I’ll be in and out of this store in a moment.”

He sat Gabriel down at the small fence usually reserved for horses. He looped the leash loosely around one of the poles but figured that Gabriel wouldn’t be going anywhere anytime soon. Plus, with the idea of horses becoming an obsolete method of travel, there wasn’t a chance of Gabriel being trampled to death.

“Stay,” Sam told him one last time before walking into the store.

The place was nothing special. Sam had spotted it while walking with Dean on his first day here. It was a small drug store with baubles and trinkets displayed in the window and the promise of candy and other sweets lining the shelves inside. Sam didn’t want a choking hazard for Gabriel, but something sweet would probably lift his mood. The door jingled as he pushed it open, and Sam walked into the slightly-cooler-than-outside inside.

“Hello, sir,” the man behind the counter said, greeting him before he had the chance to even look around. “Looking for anything in particular?”

“Nothing much,” Sam said, scanning the shelves. “You have chocolate peppermints?”

The man pushed off the counter, sticking a pipe in the corner of his mouth as he turned to scan his shelves. He picked through the different glass containers and then finally pulled one out, turning to set it on the counter so that Sam could see the contents.

It was just what he was looking for really—chocolate covered peppermint candies. The outside would melt in your mouth and then the inside would slowly dissolve.

“I'll have a pound of those,” Sam said, tapping the side of the container with a finger. He looked over at the rest of the containers on the wall, scamming them quickly and sitting what he was looking for. “And a pound of those, please.”

The man pulled down the second container of chocolate covered peanuts. He carefully measured out a pound of each into separate brown paper bag before rolling over the tops of each and pushing them across the counter. He took his pipe out of his mouth and blew a gust of smoke up above Sam's head.

“Anything else?” he asked.

Sam scanned the other containers, wondering if he should grab anything for Dean. Finally, he nodded at the bag of caramels.

“A pound of that too,” he said.

The man obliged, and Sam paid for the three items. He tucked them under his arms and wished the man a good day. When he stepped out of the door, he was relieved to see Gabriel sitting exactly where he left him. He cut a sad image, slumped on the ground with his wings splayed behind him. He looked awkward. Avem weren’t meant to be on the ground. They were supposed to be in the sky.

“Hey,” Sam said, walking up to Gabriel’s side. “I got you something.”

Gabriel looked up at him, only half curious really, and Sam dug into one of the bags and pulled out a single chocolate peppermint. He had never seen an avem eat sugar or any sort of confectionary before but one wouldn’t hurt Gabriel and it would be an interesting study. Sam offered him the candy, eager to see if he would take it.

Gabriel did and popped it immediately into his mouth. He bite down, and Sam jerked, wanting to grab his jaw and make him spit it out before he hurt himself. But Gabriel just kept chewing, screwing up his nose as the candy crunched and shattered until it was small enough for him to swallow. But he did, and then he looked to Sam for another one.

“That’s not how you’re supposed to eat it,” Sam said.

Gabriel sniffed but didn’t give any indication that he cared. His eyes were still locked on Sam’s hand, looking for more peppermints.

Sam sighed and gave him another one anyway. Gabriel crunched it up, wrinkling his nose a little but swallowing it all the same. Sam tucked the rest of the candies under his arm and un-looped Gabriel’s leash from the post.  

“Come on,” he said, giving the leash a tug and earning a hard glare from Gabriel. “Let’s go home.”

Gabriel snorted but followed him obediently, crawling along on all fours.

The walk home gave Sam a chance to study Gabriel more thoroughly. It wasn’t every day that he got the chance to observe an avem so closely just such a long time.

Gabriel moved more like an ape on all fours rather than some other four-legged creature. He balanced either on his knuckles or palms and then swung his legs forward. Occasionally, he would pause and idle upright, surveying his surroundings. It was the Dog Walk, to give the technical methodology a layman’s term, as opposed to the Giraffe Walk.

Another bit of interesting information that Sam was able to observe was Gabriel’s assumed avian genes. The more avian side of avems was still a mystery to most scholars, Sam included. While it was obvious that avem species were just as varied at normal avian species, understanding how the differences manifested themselves was still hard to grasp.

Some North American species that Sam had observed before that, when he had the opportunity for a vivisection after finding a body recently deceased on a hike, lacked the muscles in the legs and chest needed to draw the leg up and forward. That, or they were so atrophied that Sam hadn't been able to identify them. The avem were deemed to be a sort of wren, physically smaller and unable to walk like a bipedal human.

Not that they really needed it. With the lush forests of America still mainly unoccupied and unfarmed, wren-type avem stuck mostly to the trees, hopping from branch to branch and only spending brief moments on the ground.

Gabriel, on the other hand, didn’t appear to be that sort of type of bird. While Sam didn’t know Gabriel’s avian-type, it was clear that he still maintained the ability to walk, just choose not to.

Sam tugged Gabriel gently in the direction of the Smithing, glad when the avem followed without complaint. With the brown paper bags under his arms and an avem on the end of his leash, Sam felt just as much the oddity as the freaks at the circus. Except people were giving him looks, and they didn't have to pay a thing.  

 


	6. When Sam Gets a Job

“How long do you plan on keeping him here?” Dean asked that night as he watched Gabriel scarf down the plate of food Sam had set out for him on the floor. “Because I'm going to have to buy a lot more food if he keeps eating like that.”

Same sighed and looked at Gabriel.

They didn't make the mistake of trying to get him to eat at the table a second time like before. Still, the avem ate like he was starving and it was his last meal on Earth. Even though he had eaten a dozen peppermint candies after arriving home and Sam knew his stomach couldn't be that large. Gabriel gulped down the last bites in his bowl and looked up at Sam, eyeing his own bowl of food. Sam quickly wrapped his hands around it and took a bite just to show Gabriel who it belonged to.

“I don't know,” he said, finally addressing Dean's question. “I guess I need to figure out what to do with him. It's not like there's a shelter that we can drop him off at.”

“There's an idea!” Dean said loudly. Loud enough to earn a glare from Gabriel and send him slinking into the sitting room. “Just drop him off on a street corner! He's an avem. I'm sure he can take care of himself!”

Sam shook his head, ignoring Dean's sarcastically angry tone. “Not with his wings like that,” he said. “The moment we turn our backs, wild dogs, some predator, hell, even other avem would tear him apart.”

“Well, he's costing me a pretty penny,” Dean said, pushing away his own empty bowl.  

“I have a little cash,” Sam offered. “I didn’t really think about bringing more than a bit of pocket change when I came over.” He thought for a moment and took a bite, chewing as he considered the possibilities. “If you want,” he finally said. “I’m sure there is a local university that would hire me for tutoring. Or side classes. I’ve done a couple seminars over in America.”

Dean shrugged and stood, taking his bowl to his sink and running a big of water over it. He left it to soak in a small puddle and turned back to Sam. “Sure,” he said. “If they’ll hire you. There’s always a need for extra money.”

“Once Gabriel is settled in a bit more,” Sam said. “And there isn’t a risk of leaving him alone.”

“I gotta bit more work to do downstairs,” Dean said. “Just small repairs and stuff, but I’ll probably be a few hours. Go to sleep if you want, and don’t worry about me.”

Sam shrugged, accepting the situation without complaint and letting Dean do his thing. Besides, he wanted to flip through his textbooks before any sort of sleep.

Gabriel was in the living room, chewing on one of the throw pillows but immediately dropped it when Sam entered the room. He jumped off the couch and quickly scuttled to the other side of the room, giving Sam a dirty look.

“You ate plenty,” Sam tried to tell him. “You shouldn't be hungry.”

Gabriel chirped at him and sat down, hands between his feet like a dog. He stayed there, wings folded neatly. Figuring that he would be okay for the moment, Sam pulled his books—which he had left stacked neatly on the coffee table—and opened to the page where he had left off. He brushed aside the loose-leaf papers filled with sketches of Gabriel and Gabriel's wings. He flipped through the pages until he found the diagrams of avem skeletal systems and avem muscular systems. He traced his fingers over the ink and then settled in to read.

He could focus for a while and Dean's offer of going to bed before him honestly didn't seem likely. Sam could read for hours without being disturbed. And he didn't plan on being disturbed.

Until cautious fingers crept their way onto the corner of his books and an even more curious face poked up from under the table.

Gabriel eyed him skittishly, and Sam froze, definitely not wanting to scare him.

Gabriel flipped a couple pages of the book, more fascinated by how it moved than by the pictures or words. When he grew bored of that, he cautiously moved around the table and hopped up onto the couch. He froze there, as if expecting Sam to react.

Sam held himself as still as possible. He didn't even breathe.

Gabriel then seemed to relax because his wings dropped down a little. He slunk forward and placed a single hand on Sam's thigh. He froze there too, waiting and gauging Sam's reaction. When Sam didn't move, Gabriel climbed completely onto his lap and flopped down.

He lay very similar to a cat. He curled on his side, arms and legs sprawled outward and almost hanging off the couch. Sam didn't get a chance to really analyze the position further because just then he got a face full of feathers and he was forced to sit back or risk eating Gabriel's wings.

So he leaned back and kept his arms at his side while Gabriel shifted around and then finally settle with a sigh. His wings slumped down, and he heaved a sigh.

Was Sam supposed to touch him? He had the urge to pet the avem like a cat or dog, but he was also scared of setting Gabriel off. Gently, he moved his hand up to Gabriel’s shoulder and slowly—ever so slowly—dragged his hand down, over Gabriel’s shoulder blades, and between his wings.

The avem shifted ever so slightly but didn’t protest to the petting. If anything, Gabriel relaxed even more and practically sighed in contentment. So Sam repeated the action, growing bold enough to give Gabriel a slight scratch between the wings this time. Gabriel pressed up against his touch, as if begging Sam to continue. So Sam did.

He didn’t want to waste the entire evening petting an avem, however, so he carefully leaned over and snagged a spare sheet of paper that was still blank from drawings along with an inkwell pen. With one hand, he continued to stroke Gabriel. With his other, he began taking notes of all of Gabriel’s behaviors that contradicted normal avem behavior.

_Subject A,_ he wrote because he didn’t think it professional to name an avem in an academic paper. _Is both skittish and wary around others of its kind. It was eager to go outside and explore after being kept in a house overnight. But upon encountering other avem and failing to impress them with normal mating dances and simple show-offs, Subject A quickly became dejected and did not protest to returning to the house._

Sam chewed his lip and looked down at his lap. Gabriel’s breathing had evened out, so Sam guessed he was asleep.

_Subject A ate dinner as normal, his food consisting of a heavy egg and sausage scramble with onions, green and red peppers, and basic seasonings. It still attempts to sneak or otherwise coerce food in other ways. I do not know why its appetite remains so large. Since it is not expelling vast amounts of energy to fly, its appetite should decrease._

_Possible reasons for desiring food: abuse in its past has made it food aggressive._

Sam looked down at Gabriel, trying to imagine what had all gone on while the avem had been with the circus. He had no way of knowing how long the circus had had Gabriel or even where they had acquired him from. He could have been with them a couple months. He could have been with them a couple years. There was just no way of knowing. Sam made another point under Possible Reasons.

_Subject A is exerting energy in another way besides flying._

_Subject A is exerting energy trying to fly._

Sam tried to think if he knew of any universities in the area that would be looking for a professor to put on simple workshops in the area of avem studies. Of course, everyone was curious about the strange bird-creatures that were still being discovered across the world. Sam would just have to cross his fingers and hope that he could harness that interest and make some pocket cash while he stayed with Dean.

He rested his hand in between Gabriel’s wings, feeling the avem’s rapidly beating heart and the heat radiating off his skin. He knew it wasn’t panic or excitement causing it. Avem usually had abnormally high heartrates.

What would a university say if Sam could bring in a live, avem subject for its students to study? Would Gabriel be calm enough to be paraded around the campus and be willing to be stared at by thousands of curious eyes?

He had already had people staring at him. Maybe the better question would be: would he resent Sam forever for making him relive something like that?

Not that Gabriel’s hate was something that Sam couldn’t endure. It would be similar to the leash. Gabriel would just have to get used to it and besides, Sam had an even better chance of being offered a job when he had a real, live avem to offer to the universities. Tomorrow, he decided, he would leave Gabriel in his bedroom with food and things to occupy him and Sam would go out job searching.

 

~*~

 

“Well, Mr. Winchester, we are very impressed with your credentials and well as with your offer.”

Sam folded his hands in his lap and resisted the urge to bounce his leg. He knew his resume was impressive. He had almost a decade of experience of field study in America as well as his classroom studies in Europe. He had several recommendation letters from professors and colleagues across both realms and he offered to bring a live specimen for the students to study. By all logic, the university had no reason to say no.

The president of the college sat in front of him, hands folded across his desk as he rested his steely gaze. Sam kept his shoulders back and his posture good.  

“We weren't exactly looking for someone of your description currently,” the president said.

Sam kept up his poker face.

“But I can hardly turn down someone of your status who offers the chance to study a live subject up close,” the president finished.

And Sam relaxed, letting his shoulders drop just a bit.

“I’m sure our students would love for you to come in for a couple class sessions here and there,” the president said. “Could you start tomorrow? We can give you hours in the afternoon. A lecture hall in the main building will have opened up by then and you can use those facilities.”

“That would be great,” Sam said. “Perfect actually. And, erm, compensation?”

“Ah! Yes, of course,” the president said, sweeping all of Sam’s papers back into their folder and straightening it just enough so he could hand it back. “You will definitely be paid for your services. I’ll discuss specifics with my board, but I’m sure a sizable check will be available. A live specimen is definitely worth that. _You_ are definitely worth that.”

Sam straightened all of his papers for himself but wasn’t particularly offended. With the prospect of money in his future, it was pretty hard to be pessimistic.

“Thank you so much,” he said. “I’ll prepare the necessary material for a lecture tomorrow. Will you want the specimen brought in the very first day?”

“As soon as possible would be best,” the president said. He was already distracted by another pile of papers that needed both his attention and his signature. “The students will be eager to see what you bring to the table.”

Sam nodded and, with his folder once again safely in his bag, he stood, giving the president one last respectful inclination of his head. And then he walked out of the door, into the hallway, and all the way until he was walking out the lobby doors into the outside.

Several avem that had be picking through the garbage bins in the small courtyard took flight as the heavy glass doors banged shut. Sam watched them flee to the safety of the rooftops.

They were all pigeon-grey, with stubby wings and clumsy flight patterns. They cooed too, which only made Sam think of them more and more as pigeons.

He felt a sense of pride knowing that Gabriel, even with his wings as they were, was much more elegant than an ordinary pigeon. He was a pretty golden brown and, even if he was rejected by his own kind, he was more beautiful than them anyway.

Sam shrugged his bag a little higher onto his shoulders and started across the courtyard, heading back to the Smithing. He wasn’t about to waste a couple dollars when the walk was only a couple minutes. And he could use the time to think of ways to convince Gabriel that being in a classroom wouldn’t kill him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to be updating to story Saturdays and Wednesdays now, since a week is pretty long to wait, and I'm excited to get through this story ^-^


	7. When Gabriel is the Main Attraction

The next day, Sam gathered all his papers and drawings about Gabriel and tucked them inside one of his textbooks. Then he put all his textbooks into his bag and packed a careful bag of treats to coax Gabriel into cooperating.

At the moment, the avem was studying him curiously. After only coming out of the bedroom for breakfast, Gabriel had perched on top of the sofa and took to watching Sam walk around the house. Dean had rolled his eyes and retreated quickly down to his shop.

“I’ve got a surprise for you today,” Sam said, ending up talking to Gabriel with nothing else to do. “We’re going to go somewhere special.”

“Go?” Gabriel said.

That was the main difference between avem and a cat or dog. While you could talk to any of them, avem were the only ones who had the chance of responding. Which was weird, when Sam thought about it. Because Gabriel couldn’t carry on conversations, just mimic words here and there. Still, it was something to do instead of getting ready in silence.

“Yeah, go,” Sam repeated. “To a very good place with people that will be very interested in looking at your wings.”

Gabriel immediately pulled his wings in tight and clicked his tongue. He narrowed his eyes and puffed out his chest in an obvious display of aggression which was impressive coming from someone of his size directed at someone of Sam's size.

“I’m Sam,” he said in that oh-so-familiar mocking voice.

Sam rolled his eyes.

“I’m Sam,” Gabriel repeated, tick-tocking his head back and forth with his nose in the air. “And we're _going_ somewhere today. Going. Going. Going. Going!”

Sam ignored him, not sure why he bothered with conversation anyway. He finished packing up his teaching materials and closed the clasp of his bag with a snap. He thought about putting the harness on Gabriel early just to spite the avem.

“Is that all you do?” Sam asked as Gabriel somersaulted off the couch and sprawled on the floor.

Gabriel looked up at him, upside down, and chirped. He rolled to his feet, jumped onto the coffee table, and then launched himself across the room, spreading his wings to get as much lift as he could before crash-landing in front of the bedroom door and quickly darting inside. Sam listened to the thuds and scrambles as Gabriel made his way into the rafters.

It was going to be a hassle getting him down from there. But nothing that a couple cookies couldn’t fix. Gabriel would come down from anywhere and cooperate with anything as long as food was promised.

Sam moved to the kitchen and began packing himself a small meal. The university may or may not provide professors and staff with food, so he wanted to bring something just to be sure. He packed up a simple sandwich of sweet preserves and bread, a package of crackers, and two different apples, one red and one green. He also packed a decent sized bag of granola for Gabriel, not sure if he would need anything else while they were there.

Then, with nothing else to do, Sam grabbed the harness that was draped over the back of a kitchen chair and made his way toward the bedroom.

“Gabriel,” he called. “Come on down from there. We have to get ready to go.”

Gabriel poked his head up out of the next of blankets he had been slowly adding too since he arrived. Sam kept having to replace his own quilts on the bed whenever Gabriel stole them.

“Go?” Gabriel repeated, the same as before.

“Oh no,” Sam said. “We’re not starting that again. Get your ass down here before I’m forced to do something we’ll both regret.” Sam regretted introducing Gabriel to cookies in the first place.

Gabriel grinned down at him, flashing canines that were a bit too sharp to be human. “Ass,” he repeated, latching on to that word out of all of them. “Ass!”

“Bad avem!” Sam said. “No!”

“Ass!” Gabriel repeated, even louder than before.

“If you come down here and put your harness on without a fight, I’ll give you cookies,” Sam promised, holding up the promised cookies in one hand and the harness in the other.

Gabriel stared at him, as if trying to decide if the trade was a trap or not. But then he climbed out of his nest and across the beams before choosing a good spot on the bed and jumping down with a thud. He was quick to pull his wings away and skitter to the top of the bed, out of Sam’s reach. He stuck out a hand instead.

“Cookies,” he demanded.

“Here,” Sam said, tossing over one of the treats.

While Gabriel chowed down on that, Sam was able to step closer and slip the harness on. He had to give Gabriel another cookie to keep him sitting still enough to tighten the harness and then another cookie at the very end. Gabriel only gave him one dirty look for the harness but then obediently followed Sam out of the bedroom and towards the front door.

Sam paused in the living room to gather his bag with all his books and then they were off.

The walk to the university was a little longer than Sam anticipated since Gabriel wanted to stop every couple feet to sniff something, or survey the surroundings, or just to ruffle his wings and sit. Sam didn’t want to rush him either, so he let the avem move at his own pace for the most part.

When they finally did get to the university, another professor, dressed in a fine black linen suit and tie cinched tightly against his throat, greeted them on the sidewalk out front. His own briefcase was sitting a little ways away, and his hands were tucking elegantly into his pockets. But when he noticed Sam, his eyes widened and he stood up straighter.

“Mr. Winchester?” he said, pulling his hands out of his pockets. He was already staring at Gabriel. “I must admit, I didn’t believe them when they said you had a live specimen.”

Sam wasn’t sure if he should take that as a compliment or as an insult. He tugged Gabriel a bit closer to his side, hoping the avem wouldn’t speak out of turn. “Of course,” he said. “Will you be showing me the lecture halls?”

“Mr. Smith,” the man said, bending to scoop up his briefcase. “And they’ve set up a small pavilion out in the yard. Will that be alright?”

Sam glanced at Gabriel and figured he would be okay spending the day outside, under the sun. So he nodded and followed the man into the buildings, silently praying the Gabriel wouldn’t try to touch anything or make any scenes.

But Gabriel was well behaved. He stayed right on Sam’s heels, not pulling on his leash, and definitely not trying to attack any of the people they passed. They got plenty of looks and left students whispering behind cupped hands in their wake. Sam kept his shoulders back and his gaze straight forward, knowing just how to ignore the stairs.

The small pavilion Mr. Smith led him to was actually quite nice. In the center of the university was a wide courtyard with well-kept flowerbeds and well-swept paths. The wooden pavilion was set up with a desk, podium, and a dozen or so chairs. Sam and Gabriel would be in the shade, out of the harsh sunlight, and able to hold an audience of a good group of students at a time.

Sam quickly looped Gabriel’s leash around on the wooden struts to keep him in place and turned back to Mr. Smith, taking a moment to set his bag on the desk.

“Thank you so much,” he said. “Tell the dean that I am extremely grateful for the opportunity.”

Mr. Smith nodded, still not looking away from Gabriel. “Of course,” he said and then turned and walked away.

“Are you ready for your first audience?” Sam asked Gabriel.

The avem was exploring his new surroundings, sniffing the cobwebs and thoroughly scouting out the circle of area his leash allowed him to move in. He looked up when Sam spoke and cocked his head. Then he narrowed his eyes and huddled up on himself, clicking his tongue nervously.

“It won’t be like the circus,” Sam reassured.

Gabriel didn’t relax.

“Excuse me!”

Sam turned at the voice, immediately laying eyes on the young man that was standing near the back of the seating arrangement. He was put together and clean-pressed. His white button down shirt was tucked neatly into his pants, and his penny loafers were gleaming with fresh polish. He looked put together, like his family had money and he knew it.

“I’m Adam,” he said, stepping forward and extending a hand. “The teachers said that someone would be stopping by with an avem specimen.”

“Samuel Winchester,” Sam said, shaking the boy’s hand. He then gestured to Gabriel. “This is Gabriel.”

Adam nodded, his eyes shining as he shifted his attention from Sam to Gabriel. “May I?” he asked politely.

Sam nodded. “Go ahead.”

Adam crouched down, shifting his book bag so it could rest on the floor, and then he extended a hand toward Gabriel. He clicked his tongue as if he were trying to coax a cat forward. “Hey there,” he said softly. “Aren’t you a pretty boy, yes you are. Such pretty wings.”

Gabriel chirped at him, drawing his wings tighter and not at all buying into the friendly act.

“What are you studying?” Sam asked, watching carefully to make sure Gabriel wouldn’t make any move to attack. He didn’t think the avem would, but there was always a chance.

“Greek and Theology,” Adam said, still offering a hand to a hesitant Gabriel.

“And what is your interest in avems?” Sam asked. He didn’t want to be rude, but he was expecting medical students and students actually studying either avem or wildlife to want to see Gabriel. Nothing like theologians.

“The fact that they are sometimes called angels,” Adam said, a small smile turning his lips up. “I like them, and I like thinking they are somehow God’s help-meets. Scattered across the earth, being so pretty.” He clicked his tongue again. “Huh, boy? Are you a pretty angel?”

Gabriel pulled his lips back to bare his teeth at Adam and hissed, arching his back and flaring his wings in intimidation. He didn’t lunge though, so Sam kept his distance.

Adam seemed to take the hint though and stood, taking a careful step away from Gabriel. He looked much less sure of himself, clutching the strap of his bag tightly.

“Avem are animals,” Sam explained, moving between Adam and Gabriel. “And that’s what they act like. The term ‘angel’ was given to the white-winged avems when they were first discovered in Africa by Middle Eastern explorers. It’s a crude name for a more elegant creature. _Avem hominum_ is a better way of referring to them.”

“Erm, well, good luck with him,” Adam said, clearly put off by Gabriel’s aggression. “It was great seeing him anyway.” He was hurrying away before Sam could give him a proper goodbye.

“You’d better not scare everyone away,” Sam said, shooting Gabriel a stern look.

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “Ass,” he muttered.

“Language,” Sam warned, getting all his material ready for when he had a proper audience. As soon as enough students gathered together, he could begin to explain the more delicate details and topics that students like Adam weren’t interested in.

The next student appeared close behind the other, looking much different from the first.

He was young, still baby faced with cheeks plump with childish fat that would fade in the coming years. He wore a rumpled white button down and black slacks. His tie was loose and his hair unkempt, but his eyes shone with a scholarly interest that Sam had only seen in a few people. His book bag was slung over his shoulder, bulging with texts.

“Oh, sir,” he said, jumping forward to offer Sam a hand. “My professor said you were coming. Said this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.” He was chuckling nervously, glancing to Gabriel every couple seconds. “Unless, of course, I go into the field myself. But that’s— _wow_ , that’s a while away. Um, is he dangerous?”

Sam shot Gabriel a warning look but stepped aside to let the student a clear path to the avem. “His name is Gabriel,” he explained.

“Elliot,” the boy said, and Sam wasn’t sure if he was introducing himself to Sam or to Gabriel.

Gabriel chirped and crept forward, much more interested with Elliot than with the other student. He sniffed the air like a dog and then cooed. Elliot stepped forward and sunk into a crouch, offering a limp hand palm down for Gabriel to sniff.

Elliot chirped back, making a weird whistling noise through his teeth. It was so similar to a call of an avem that Sam thought that Gabriel had made it. But Gabriel reared back in surprise, flaring his wings wide and giving a startled screech.

Elliot fell back onto his own ass, laughing uproariously as Gabriel began chirping at him fast paced. It was a chaotic form of communication, much different than any other avem communication Sam had ever heard. Gabriel clicked and chirped and crept even closer to Elliot, sniffing him further.

“Sorry,” Elliot said in between laughs. “That’s the only thing I know how to say.”

Now, more curious than ever, Sam stepped forward for himself. “What _did_ you say?” he asked, because even after all these years, he had yet to mimic any sort of avem communication successfully.

“It’s some sort of food call,” Elliot explained. “Um, last year in one of my biology classes. We went out and spent an entire day studying the avems in the city. It took me a couple hours before I got good enough. I could call avem to me by promising them food.” He offered a hand to Gabriel. “Huh, Gabe?” He repeated the short tune.

Gabriel jumped again, bouncing from side to side and chirping even more rapidly. He fluttered his wings and then seemed to gather up all the courage he had. He puffed up his chest and leaned back onto his feet, drawing his arms up to his chest.

“Elliot,” he said. “Elliot!”

“So you can speak!” Elliot said, giving Gabriel a wry smile. “I knew a lot of avem can mimic. I guess you’re just shy.”

Gabriel wrinkled his nose and then snorted. He sat back just like Elliot had, his gangly legs half-heartedly folded and his arms crossed over his skinny chest. Sam knew what was coming and couldn't help but smile.

“I'm Elliot,” Gabriel said with his nose already in the air. “I'm Elliot and I think I talk good. I'm Elliot and I think I’m smart.”

Elliot stared at Gabriel in shock for a moment and then burst out laughing all over again, rocking back and forth and holding his stomach. Tears were streaming down his face a moment later, and he gasped for breath.

“Oh my God!” he said in between gasps for breath. “Oh my God!”

“Oh my God,” Gabriel parroted. He then scrambled to all fours and flared his wings. “Ass!” he declared loudly.

That just sent Elliot into even more hysterical laughter, and the whole game could’ve continued just like that if the next group of students hadn’t arrived.

Sensing that a crowd was forming, Sam returned to his papers, shuffling through them as a group of seven students formed, growing larger by the moment. Elliot’s laughter died off as he sensed the mood shift too, and he scrambled to his feet, grabbing his back and heading towards the back of the crowd. Gabriel shrunk back down at the sudden attention, losing his mocking attitude and pulling his wings around himself tight.

“Welcome!” Sam said, grabbing the first page of his lecture and addressing all the students at once. “I’m guessing you are all interested in the live avem.”

The students all nodded and murmured agreement. Whether they were medical or otherwise didn’t really matter to Sam. If he kept their interest, the college would pay him to come back. He cleared his throat and started his lecture.

“Gabriel was rescued from a circus after having his wings mutilated for an act. He is grounded as a result and unable to return to normal, avem wildlife. While still a wild creature and still as dangerous as ever, I encourage you to come forward and interact with him as much as possible.”

Sam glanced back at Gabriel, motioning for the avem to turn a circle and show off his wings. Gabriel squinted his eyes and bared his teeth. But he flared his wings in defense, and that was good enough to Sam anyway.

A couple of the more courageous students stepped forward, oohing and ahhing over Gabriel and his stubby, short wings. Satisfied, Sam went on.

“I have several illustrated pictures to show the differences between normal avem wings you would see on one in the wild, and the wings of Gabriel here.”

 


	8. When Gabriel Knows What's Wrong

“I can’t believe you attacked a student!” Sam yelled at Gabriel. Of course, a part of him was aware that yelling at the avem was doing anything but helping. But Sam was seeing red. His job opportunity was ruined. “Bad avem! Very bad avem!”

Gabriel was twittering at him, perched on the back of the couch and leaning away from Sam as much as his leash would allow. Sam had tied him to the heavy coffee table and that was pretty efficient in keeping the avem in place. His wings were high and back, and his eyes darted about nervously.

“What were you expecting?” Dean called from the kitchen. “He’s an animal.”

“I don't care,” Sam said, shooting a glare at Gabriel. “He should know better!”

Gabriel chirped nervously, a high pitched noise that grated on Sam's ears. He shifted from hand to hand, tugging on his leash, twitching his wings every couple seconds. “I'm Sam,” he finally said quietly. “I'm Sam.”

“Shut up!” Sam shouted, slamming a hand on the coffee table. The resulting slap echoed throughout the entire apartment. “Shut the hell up!”

Gabriel shut up. He snapped his mouth closed and pulled his wings tight. He didn't even chirp. He just stared at Sam with eyes the size of dinner plates.

“Oh great,” Dean said, coming around the corner carrying a bowl of soup by the smell of it. “You scared him. If he pisses himself, you're cleaning it up.”

And with that, Gabriel let out a final, ear-splitting screech and wrenched his body in the opposite direction of Sam. The leash snapped taut and the coffee table skidded a few inches as his weight yanked it along. Gabriel gagged as he swung from the back of the couch, scrambling to get his feet underneath him and choking himself in the process.

“Hey, _hey_!” Dean said, jumping forward and abandoning his bowl on the kitchen counter.

He didn't even get to Gabriel's side before the avem thrashed his wings in just the right way and snapped the leash clean in half. He landed on his shoulder, the thud making Sam wince. But he was rolling straight to his feet, bounding off the bedroom, before Sam could say anything or even move. He and Dean listened to the clatter and grunts as Gabriel climbed up into the rafters and into whatever safety he was looking for.

“Way to kick a puppy,” Dean said, examining the broken end of the leash hanging over the couch and scoffing at the frayed end. “That was good leather.”

“Don't get mad at me,” Sam said. He gestured towards the bedroom. “Get mad at him.”

Dean rolled his eyes and stood, tossing aside the end of the leather. “I’m not going to yell at an avem,” he said. “I yell at avem enough on a day-to-day basis. He's your problem.”  

Sam sighed but when he heard the thump and clatter of Gabriel getting into even more trouble, he decided that cleaning up after the avem would be a lot simpler if he cooperated. So, leaving Dean in the living room, Sam walked to the bedroom, rolling up his sleeves in preparation to what he would have to deal with.

Gabriel wasn’t in the rafters, like he thought the avem would be. Instead, he was huddled in the corner of the room, stubby wings wrapped around himself as much as possible. Sam’s briefcase was snapped open on the bed and his papers and lecture notes were strewn everywhere.

“Just because you’re angry, doesn’t mean you have to make a mess,” Sam said, taking a moment to make sure his anger wasn’t apparent in his voice. He stooped to start cleaning the papers, noticing with dismay that nearly all of his pencils had been shaken loose and almost all of them had broken points. They would need meticulous sharpening.

It wasn’t until Sam collected the first diagram of Gabriel that he noticed what the avem had done.

The diagram was a quickly scribbled one, not extremely nice but got the point across. On the paper, in careful pencil marks, Gabriel’s upper shoulders and wings were depicted. Sam had used it to illustrate what parts of Gabriel’s wings were missing for the students back at the university. But it wasn’t just his drawing on the paper anymore.

In heavy pencil lead, added by an unskilled hand in an obvious rush, were rough triangles that extended Gabriel’s wings so that they were their natural length. Sam hadn’t drawn that, and he hadn’t let any students get close enough to modify his notes.

Sam glanced up at Gabriel and spotted the pencil dangling from his hand.

The next sketch Sam found was the same way. The picture of Gabriel was marred by the heavy lead lines to make his wings complete. And the next one was like that too, the wings extended just enough to make them normal. And the next one after that. And the one after that. And the one after that.

There was a trail of sketches leading all the way up to Gabriel’s feet, all of them marked and all of them ruined. The pencil clattered out of the avem’s hand as Sam got too close and Gabriel pulled himself into a tighter ball. He scrambled up, kicking up the last modified sketches and squeezing around Sam to climb onto the bed.

“Hey, wait a minute,” Sam said, now feeling very bad that he had yelled at the avem. “I’m not mad.”

Gabriel only chirped nervously, turning anxious circles on Sam’s mattress before finally choosing to launch himself up and into the rafters. He scrambled all the way up and in only a few moments, he had retreated completely into his nest of blankets and was out of sight.

“I’m sorry,” Sam told the shivering lump hanging from his ceiling. He looked back down at the drawings in his hand and the ones still on the floor, feeling even worse and worse about himself.  

Gabriel was cooing to himself, huddled out of Sam’s sight.

“I’m Sam,” Sam said, trying to cheer the avem up the only way he knew how. “I’m Sam and I’m sorry for yelling at you.”

Gabriel had stopped cooing the moment he started speaking and by the time Sam had finished, he was peeking up over the side of his nest.

“I’m Sam,” Sam tried again now that he had Gabriel’s attention. “And I’m stupid and mean.”

Gabriel smiled and then seemed to remember that he was supposed to be angry. He chirped angrily and scowled.

“Come on,” Sam said, trying to coax the avem into a better mood. “I know that’s your favorite game.”

Gabriel cooed again and stuck his head back up. He narrowed his eyes at Sam but didn’t look so angry. He then pulled himself up, wings still tucked close, and leaned down over the rafter.

“I’m Sam,” he said, and Sam sighed in relief when he picked up on the game. “I’m Sam and I’m a stupid head.”

Sam wrinkled his nose. That was the worst insult the avem could think of? Kind of disappointing honestly.  After everything the avem had done so far, all the spit and fire in him, and ‘stupid head’ is the insult he chooses when given the chance?

Sam still gave Gabriel an encouraging smile.

“There you go,” he said. “There’s the avem I know. I’m sorry for taking you to the university. I should have known it would stress you out.”

Gabriel snorted and stuck out his tongue. “Stupid head,” he said again. “Dumb. Idiot. Fish eater.”

Fish eater? Now that was a new one. Sam wondered, making a note in the back of his mind, if avem species that consumed fish were lower on the hierarchy than other avem. Fish eater would be a pretty good insult then, at least in Gabriel’s mind.

Satisfied that Gabriel was properly cheered up, at least for now, Sam turned his attention back to the papers scattered across the floor. They still needed to be cleaned up and Sam wanted to file away the ones Gabriel had drawn on, so that he could study them later.

He was able to sort through them pretty quickly, setting aside the ones of pictures and the ones with words into separate piles. By the time he was done, Gabriel was back to singing to himself, cooing and chirping in a quiet, personal song.

Sam didn’t think he would come down from the rafters anytime soon and he wasn’t about to try to drag Gabriel down from there anyway. He would leave food out for the avem when he went to bed and would acknowledge the problem in the morning. For now, he would let the avem keep his distance.

The rest of the evening passed quickly, as Sam worked on several different projects. After sorting all his papers, he re-wrote a lecture, this time trying to focus on Gabriel’s comfort instead of the students’ learning opportunity. He carefully packed away the drawings and discarded his own lecture in the fireplace. He ate a small meal and decided to see what Dean was doing in the forge.

The steady clanging on his work had been near constant for the past couple hours so either he was honestly working on repairs of one item or another, or he was working out his frustration on some poor piece of metal.  

Several pots and pans, newly repaired, was scattered at the entrance of the work area, showing where Dean had started. His shirt was draped nearby, abandoned with the finished projects.

Dean himself was further back in the forge, heavy leather apron hanging from his neck and tied around his waist. He wore no eye protection, probably not helpful, and swung his hammer in determined arches. Sparks flew off the frame of metal he was working on, and the ringing echoed throughout the entire work area.

Sam watched him work for a couple minutes, not wanting to talk and disturb his concentration. It was fascinating and captivating. After spending so much time around paper pushes and scholars, seeing someone partake in such demanding physical labor, was strange and almost bizarre.

Finally, Dean took one last swing at the project and pulled back, letting it rest on the workbench and cool in the air by itself. He turned and seemed to notice Sam for the first time.

“You didn’t kill him, did you?” he asked, wiping the sweat off his brow with the back on one of his gloves.

“No,” Sam said. “He’s fine now. Resting.”

“Be careful,” Dean said, yanking off his gloves and tossing them next to the project. “I’ve had avem gang up on me when I make them angry.”

“I don’t think that will happen,” Sam said, scanning Dean’s workbench and looking for a distraction. “What are you working on?”  

“Fixing what I showed you the first day you were here,” Dean said. “My wings. I’ve gotten the supports straightened out finally and I need to frame them with material again. I’m thinking about adding more support this time.”

“Do you think they’ll ever actually work?” Sam asked. He never considered flying to be an option that humans had.

Of course, Dean wasn’t the only one with his sights set on the sky. Sam knew that several other people were researching sky travel and putting a lot of money and effort into the endeavor. Sam wasn’t entirely sure if it was possible, but if so, it would be fascinating to study. For now, he would leave flying up to the avem.

Dean shrugged. “Maybe,” he said. “One day.” He shrugged again. “Who knows?”

“Hm,” Sam said, not really sure of anything else to say. “It will be amazing if it does.”

“It won’t be finished tonight,” Dean said, untying his apron and pulling it off over his head. He tossed it over the workbench and grabbed his shirt, pulling it on again. “Or probably tomorrow. I don’t know when it will be done.”

He walked off before Sam could say anything more on the subject, leaving Sam in the empty work area. Sam walked briefly over to the bench to look at what Dean was working on.  

The frame of metal was in a shape that Sam easily recognized, the ‘wing’ bones clearly picked out in sturdy metal. The covering of leather or whatever fabric Dean chose would be added later, providing the needed surface area and leverage needed to gain any sort of height. It was a marvelous display of engineering, especially coming from Dean.

Not wanting to disturb or break anything, Sam pulled away from the work and headed back upstairs.

Dean was washing up in the bathroom, and it was late enough that going to bed wouldn’t be entirely crazy. Sam retreated to his bedroom, double checking to make sure Gabriel was still in his nest. He was, and Sam quickly stripped down to his nightclothes and climbed into bed after turning off the lights and making sure the door was closed.

He tossed and turned for several minutes, trying to find a position that was comfortable. Not that the mattress wasn’t comfortable and the blankets weren’t soft. It was something else. If Sam were honest with himself, he would admit that the drawings Gabriel had done were slightly off putting. Something about an animal creating art was odd.

Not odd, Sam corrected himself. Just . . . . not often seen.

He was almost completely asleep when the rafters creaked and Gabriel shifted around. Sam opened his eyes halfway, staring up into the dark and not even seeing ceiling. Was the avem still awake? Sam figured he would be asleep by now.

“I’m Gabriel,” the avem said softly, speaking into the dark. “I’m Gabriel and I have broken wings.”

Sam clenched a fist into his sheets and then rolled over. He wanted to pretend he didn’t hear the avem but his mind wouldn’t let him. The words, combined with the drawings from before, made Sam’s stomach twist with unease.

He squeezed his eyes shut and forced himself to think more about sleep than about Gabriel. He fell asleep with the avem cooing a gentle lullaby whether to himself or to Sam, Sam wasn’t quite sure.

 


	9. When Sam Needs an Assistant

The next time Sam visited the university, the arrangement had completely changed. Instead of a group of chairs out in the middle of a courtyard, Sam had an actual classroom. It was situated further away from the main buildings due to the fact that Sam wanted space for Gabriel. He didn’t want the avem to feel stressed.

The lecture hall was huge with a vaulted ceiling and a theater of seats. Open rafters crossed the ceiling, but they were too far up for Gabriel to hide in. The walls are paneled oak, stained dark and serious, giving the room a heavy ambiance. At the front of the room, a large chalkboard stretched across the wall and a podium stood with an impressive desk, all of which the professor is welcome to use.

Instead of binding Gabriel to the desk with his leash, Sam let the avem sit on the desk, cleared of all its papers, folders, and portfolios. He brought the avem pillows and a heavy blanket to borrow into and nest in. With a pile of something soft and familiar to hide under, Gabriel was much more content to cooperate.

Sam was setting up his own materials on the podium, preparing for the arrival of students. He wasn’t sure if the university announced his temporary class, and without the wide open area of the courtyard, Sam couldn’t exactly just invite students to join him.

To his surprise though, it only took a couple minutes before the first student walked in. It was one that he recognized from before—Elliot—the one student that Gabriel wasn’t completely opposed to. He was still worn down, that sleepless look with rumpled clothes apparently a norm for him. His backpack hung low on his shoulder, heavy with books.

“Professor Winchester!” he called in greeting, raising a hand as he made his way down the central aisle towards the front of the classroom. “I’m so glad you came back.”

“Elliot,” Sam said, nodding his greeting. “I’m glad _you_ came back.”

“And there’s the hilarious avem that I want to say hello to,” Elliot said, spotting the lump on the desk and shrugging off his backpack. He tossed it aside and walked over to the desk, keeping a respectful distance.

Gabriel poked his head out when Elliot had entered the room, and when he walked closer to the desk, he ventured further out, letting the blanket drape around his shoulders instead of over his head. He chirped softly, and Elliot returned the gesture, clicking his tongue a couple times.

“You’re not outside this time,” Elliot said, directing the not-question at Sam.

“No,” Sam said. “For Gabriel’s sake, we moved to a classroom. He’ll hopefully be less stressed this time.”

Elliot snorted. “If you’re worried about last time, Megan totally deserved it. Gabriel didn’t hurt her, just pulled her hair and showed her who’s boss. Huh, boy?”

Gabriel trilled, sounding almost . . . proud. Sam certainly didn’t want to encourage behavior like that, so he shot the avem a glare.

“Yeah, you’re a big, bad boss,” Elliot said. He reached into his bag to rummage around for something and then he finally pulled out a crumpled paper bag.

Gabriel perked up even more, sniffing the air and climbing even further out of his blankets. He didn’t leave the safety of the desk though, but he did crawl towards the edge, leaning out over the edge to get as close to Elliot as possible.

Elliot was smiling excitedly and whistled the same tune he had done yesterday as he pulled out half of a sandwich.  

Gabriel went absolutely nuts, jumping out of the blankets and turning excited circles on the desk. He chirped and tweeted and flapped his wings, eyes trained on the food that Elliot was offering.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Sam tried to say, because he wasn’t sure what was on the sandwich or whether Gabriel should be eating it or not.

But then Gabriel jumped off the desk, landing with a thud on the hardwood floor. Before Sam could even rush forward to grab him, Gabriel was pouncing into Elliot’s lap, scrambling for the sandwich and snatching it out of the student’s hand.

Elliot was laughing like he always did when dealing with Gabriel, almost falling onto his back as Gabriel scrambled over him still searching for more food.

“Easy, easy,” Elliot said in between laughs. “I don’t have any more, I’m sorry.”  

Gabriel snorted and moved to climb off of Elliot’s lap. However, Elliot scooped him up from behind, pulling him close in a tight hug. Gabriel squawked indignantly, caught off guard by the sudden grabbing. He didn’t thrash a lot though. He squirmed and adjusted his wings a bit, but then he settled down with a huff, letting Elliot ruffle his hair.

Sam raised his eyebrows in surprise. Gabriel would never let him do that. Gabriel barely let him touch him, let alone hold him in any way on his lap.

“Yeah, you’re a good boy,” Elliot was crooning, rubbing Gabriel gently between his wings with one hand, keeping the other wrapped around his waist to keep him in place.

“How did you do that?” Sam asked, wanting to step forward but not wanting to disturb Gabriel.

“Do what?” Elliot asked, letting Gabriel turn enough so that he was curled up on his lap rather than sitting.

“Just . . . . touch him. Like that,” Sam said. “He hardly lets me near him.”

Elliot smiled down at Gabriel’s form, going still as Gabriel’s eyes drifted closed. “I don’t know,” he said. “I guess, a lot of people look at avems as pests. I don’t. They’re pretty cute.”

Sam frowned. So he just had to look at Gabriel like he was cute? That couldn’t be right; that didn’t make sense. Sure Gabriel could be cute, in the sort of animal way where if Sam caught him sleeping or if he caught Gabriel stuck in his own world. But Sam knew that Gabriel wasn’t just cute. He was annoying and an asshole and irritating. That made him not cute.

“Sure,” he said and turned back to his papers so that he didn’t have to look at Gabriel being more comfortable around someone other than himself.

“Huh, buddy?” Elliot murmured. “Huh? Are you a cutie?”

Gabriel chirped and rolled over, showing off his back and wings to Elliot. He still kept them folded close, but unlike with Sam, he didn’t seem to mind that Elliot was looking and touching.

“So you weren't kidding,” Elliot said, running the tips of his fingers down Gabriel's wings and lightly tapping their stubby tips. “What happened to you, poor guy?”

“The circus,” Sam said, answering for Gabriel. “Or, _a_ circus. They cut them off for an act.”

“Hmm,” Elliot said. “Poor guy. Poor Gabriel.”

“Poor Gabriel,” Gabriel mimicked, cooing and stretching his wings to get even more sympathy out of Elliot. “Poor, poor Gabriel.”

“Yeah, poor Gabriel,” Elliot agreed, combing his fingers through Gabriel's feathers. “Bet you miss the sky, huh? Bet you miss flying?”

“Miss flying,” Gabriel repeated, twitching his wings up against Elliott's touch. His eyes were still shuddered close, and he was almost completely limp on Elliot's lap.

“You said he's just missing his primary feathers, right?” Elliot asked, continuing to groom Gabriel's wings.

“It's not _just_ his primary feathers,” Sam said, more than a little irritated that Elliot worked with the avem so well. “Those feathers are responsible for the majority of the power and thrust. Without them, Gabriel can barely make it off the ground.”

“Hmm,” Elliot said, scratching Gabriel's back when he grew a bit restless as Sam talked. “I wish there was a way to fix them,” he said idly. “Some way.”

Sam paused in his lecture review, glancing quickly to where his briefcase was leaning against the wall. He then glanced up at the doors to the lecture hall. He sighed, figuring that maybe students only attended the first time because he had been out in the middle of the courtyard. Maybe, this time, Elliot would be the only one showing up.

He then turned his attention back to where Elliot was reclining with Gabriel.

Sam abandoned his lecture notes and instead walked over to his briefcase. He bent and grabbed it, carrying it back to the podium and snapping it open. He rifled quickly through the pages inside before finally finding the ones that he was looking for.

“Elliot,” he said, stepping around the podium and offering the pages to the student. “Look at these.”

They were the drawings that Gabriel had ruined the night before. Well, maybe ‘ruined’ wasn’t the right word for it. Modified. Changed.

Fixed.

Elliot accepted the papers, pausing in the wing pets he was giving Gabriel so that he could flip through the pages. His face didn't change for the first few, but the further he got, the more his eyebrows drew together and the droopier his frown got. When he finally reached the end, he looked back up at Sam, still frowning.

“You made these?” he asked.

“No,” Sam said and then caught himself. “Well, yeah. Kind of. I made the initial sketches. Gabriel got into my bag last night and drew the other lines.”

Elliot traced a single finger over one of the dark lines that cut through the diagram of Gabriel's feathers. He followed it back up to the point, where it created the tip of the wing, and then he followed it back down. He chewed his lip in concentration.

“He made these,” he said, running a hand down a dozing Gabriel's back to keep him calm and relaxed.

“Obviously he knows that he can't fly and that's because of his wings,” Sam said, struggling to keep an academic air to the conversation. “I just. . . . I just didn't expect him to be _that_ aware of it.”

“I bet he misses the sky,” Elliot murmured, looking back to the modified pictures.

“I don't know what to do,” Sam admitted. “When I got him from the circus, I just knew they had hurt him. I never expected I'd have to do . . . . anything else, I guess.”

Elliot set the pages aside and leaned back, bracing himself on one hand and using the other to trace the tips of Gabriel's wings. “Avem are animals,” he said. “But they also aren't . . . . animals. Not completely, I don't think. They're too emotional. They're too human.”  

Sam studied Gabriel's prone form, studied the way his wings twitched under Elliot’s touch and the way his back rose and fell with each breath.

“Would you want to help me?” he asked Elliot suddenly. “If you’re not too busy with school, I mean.”

“Help with what?” Elliot asked, looking up surprised.

Sam looked back up at the doors of the lecture hall, wondering if anyone would come in. He expected someone to interrupt them and break up the conversation. But no one did, and Sam was left to continue on.

“Help with Gabriel,” Sam said. “He obviously likes you. I can’t provide you with any sort of salary or monetary compensation, but a recommendation letter from me can get you a lot of places.”

Elliot was already smiling before Sam had even finished talking. “Of course!” he said. “I’d love to help! You _and_ Gabriel.”

“Are you free tomorrow?” Sam asked. “We can take Gabriel out to the square. I want to see how he reacts with you there.”

“Of course!” Elliot said, still smiling wide. “Um, is after lunch okay? I still have a couple morning classes.”

“That’s fine,” Sam said. “I’ll meet you there. Just look for me.”

“You’ll be easy to spot,” Elliot said, returning his attention back to Gabriel. “With him.”

Sam smiled and nodded, going back to lecture notes. He really didn’t think anyone else was going to show up, but there wasn’t much else he could do. He promised the university he would stay in the classroom for at least an hour, and if it were busy, longer than that. As it was, he still had the better part of an hour to waste.

Instead of going over the textbook passages he had carefully copied onto his own paper, Sam returned to the pictures and diagrams of avem, specifically the skeletons. He made pale marks over where Gabriel’s wings ended and then slipped the end of the pencil into his mouth to chew while he thought.

There had to be something he could do.

 


	10. When Gabriel is Tired

The next day it rained. But it didn’t rain until Sam was already at the square, with Gabriel already on his leash. It didn’t start raining until Elliot was jogging up to meet them under the awning of a grocery store that sat at the edge of the wide, cobblestoned space. It didn't start raining until it was too late to cancel their plans.

“Sorry I’m late,” Elliot said, out of breath as he finally came to a stop next to Sam. He had been holding his bag, less full than it had been at the university, over his head, but once he reached the safety of the awning, he let it drop back to his side.

“It doesn’t really matter,” Sam said, giving the overcast sky a glare. “There’s not much we can do in this kind of weather.”

Gabriel was huddled at his legs, sniffing curiously at the stream of rain that was draining off of the roof. Sam didn’t want him to venture off just yet, especially if they hadn’t decided if they were going to stay or not. And he didn’t want to deal with a soaking wet Gabriel if they were just going to leave right away.

There weren’t a lot of people in the square otherwise. Everyone was inside, hiding from the weather. Most of the avem were doing to same thing, perched in the crooks and eves of the brick buildings and the church clock towers. A couple of them were still picking through the drains and garbage piles. Some were catching frogs and popping them in their mouths. Sam didn’t watch them too closely.

“It’s just rain,” Elliot said, shaking out his hair. “Not thunder or lightning or anything. We’ll be fine.” He smiled. “Look, I know a place close to here that Gabriel is going to love.”

Sam thought it over, debating whether the hassle of getting wet was worth the discovery and chance to learn. The scholar side of him won out in the end, and he clicked his tongue at Gabriel to signal that they were going to start moving.  

“Lead the way,” Sam said when Gabriel scrambled to his feet in attention.

Elliot took them down several back roads, along narrow alleyways, and across a bridge that made Gabriel extremely nervous and it took them several minutes just to convince him it was safe. After that, it was just a short walk to a small green patch of grass stocked away behind a couple houses. The space was decorated with a couple trees and flowers to make the area more welcoming, and Sam was actually impressed. They were far enough away from busy streets that he unhooked Gabriel's leash to let him run off.

“This is actually really nice,” he said.

“Gabriel certainly thinks so,” Elliot said with a laugh, gesturing towards where Gabriel was rolling in the grass.

The avem was definitely not scared of the water. He flailed his wings, drenching every feather and covering himself in mud and grass as he rolled around. He found every puddle and he jumped in it. It didn't look like he was going to run off, too preoccupied with getting himself as wet as possible, so Sam figured he could relax a bit.

He and Elliot made their way under one of the trees that provided better cover. The grass was still dry for the most part underneath, but Sam still slipped off his jacket and spread in on the ground so that they could cleanly sit without getting too wet. They relaxed, listening to the patter of raindrops on the leaves above them and watching Gabriel play.

“You know,” Sam said, nodding his head at where Gabriel was hopping from puddle to puddle, chirping to himself and fluttering his wings. “Gabriel can walk.”

Elliot looked at him confused. “What do you mean?” he asked. “Yeah, I know that.”

“No,” Sam said, feeling stupid that he hasn't explained it further. “I mean, he can walk. Some avem don't have the muscles to physically do that so they hop.”

He pointed again to Gabriel. The avem was beaming to himself, hopping about and dancing to his own personal tune. He shook out his hair every couple moments, haloing himself in water droplets every time he did. His winds were raised up, acting like half-umbrellas to keep the worst of the rain off of Gabriel's face. He hopped in tight circles, blissfully unaware of Sam and Elliot, and his problems were briefly forgotten.

“When Gabriel hops,” Sam continued. “You know he's doing it for fun.”

“Oh!” Elliot said. And then laughter was bubbling up out of his chest and he was tipping his head back and laughing at the sky. “Oh! I never knew!”

Elliot had a way of laughing that took over his entire body, and even Gabriel paused in his hopping to look over to see what was going on. Once he was satisfied that nothing was horribly wrong, Gabriel went back to his scrambling.

“Look at him!” Elliot said in between guffaws. “Hopping around without a care in the world!”

Sam was smiling now too, watching Gabriel hop from puddle to puddle, drenching himself even more. The clothes that Sam had wrestled him into clung to his body, showing off the angles and valleys of his bones. His frame was skinny and almost sorry-looking so sopping wet. And then he dropped down onto all fours and shook himself like a dog. Which only made Elliot laugh harder.

“Avem are so weird,” Elliot said once he finally caught his breath.

“That’s why I study them,” Sam said. “They’re just . . . . begging to be discovered.”

“I never thought that I could study avem as a job,” Elliot said. “I want to do what you do once I’m done with college.”

Sam looked over at the boy, caught completely by surprise by the words. His profession didn’t pay well. He hadn’t published anything notable—not yet, anyway. He wasn’t famous in any inner circles—again, not yet. Still, it was strange to find someone who wanted to enter the same field as him.  

“Th-thank you,” Sam managed to mumble.

“Wait, wait, look at him now,” Elliot said, grabbing Sam’s wrist and pointing to Gabriel.

The avem was rolling around on his back, spreading mud in all his feathers, probably getting the best sort of bath he had had in ages. He was spread starfish, just letting the rain pelt his face, eyes closed in bliss. If Sam didn't know any better, he would think Gabriel were just another normal avem.

“He looks so happy,” Elliot said, dropping his hand from Sam's wrist. “Like. . . . not a care in the world.”

Sam barked out a laugh. Because that's exactly how Gabriel looked, content and happy and perfectly normal.  

And then Gabriel rolled onto all fours, mud dripping off the edges of his wings and completely plastering his shirt to his back. He looked over at Sam and Elliot, blinking for a moment. And then a mischievous smile split his face and he crouched.

“Oh, no!” Sam said, already scrambling to his feet and getting ready to run if the avem chose to pounce. “Don’t you dare!”

Gabriel chirped and, still smiling, bounded forward.

Sam jumped back, hiding behind Elliot. Luckily, Gabriel chose him as the target anyway, crashing straight into the student and tackling him into the ground. Even though he was wearing good school clothes that Sam would have personally hated to get dirty, Elliot wrestled Gabriel back, twisting over and trying to pin him into a puddle.

Gabriel trilled happily, thrashing his wings as he fought back. He batted playfully at Elliot’s face, clearly not intent on hurting him but getting caught up in the game.

They were ruining Sam’s jacket.

Elliot was laughing, mud smeared across face and his own clothes already as filthy as Gabriel was. He had managed to pin the avem, only to get a face-ful of feathers when Gabriel somehow twisted his wings just right and flared them wide.

“Come on, Professor Winchester!” Elliot said. “Help me!”

Sam wasn't really intent on joining them. So he kept his distance and watched as Gabriel and Elliot rolled around in the mud.

It was obvious that Gabriel was playing so Sam wasn’t too worried about Elliot getting hurt. Gabriel’s wings were loose and floppy, slightly spread to make himself bigger and while his teeth are bared, it was more of a playful grin than a snarl. He batted at Elliot’s hands and head, careful not to use more force than necessary.

They wrestled for several minutes, until Elliot’s clothes and face were splattered with mud and he was out of breath from laughing too hard. Gabriel was just as exhausted as he was, laying on the wet grass, wings limp, panting through his open mouth. His eyes kept drifting closed but then Gabriel’s head would snap back up and he would shake himself awake.

“I think it’s time to go home,” Sam said, bending down to reattach the leash to the back of Gabriel’s harness. He waited for the avem to climb to his feet, but Gabriel just slumped down further, giving Sam a pathetic look.

“Awe, he’s too tired to walk,” Elliot crooned, reached over to scratch him between his wings.

It certainly wasn’t ‘awe’ in Sam’s opinion. It wasn’t cute or adorable. He had to get the avem home somehow and if Gabriel wouldn’t walk then—

Gabriel turned his pleading eyes up at Sam, pouting and fluttering his wings pathetically.

Sam had to hold back a roll of his eyes. “Fine,” he relented. “I’ll carry you.”

Gabriel popped immediately to his feet, jumping excitedly, and as soon Sam bent to pick him up, he was scrambled up Sam’s side, hooking his feet around Sam’s waist and his arms around Sam’s neck. He seemed content to ride piggyback style, even going so far as to nuzzle his face in between Sam’s shoulder blades and coo softly.

Sam made a noise of disgust, and Elliot laughed.

“He could walk by himself,” Sam muttered, starting the walk home with Elliot close behind.

“But letting you carry him means he trusts you,” Elliot said, jogging to get side-by-side with Sam and then attempting to keep up with his long strides. “It’s really a sweet gesture.”

Sam grunted as Gabriel kicked him in the ribs as he shifted around to get more comfortable. “Yeah, real sweet,” he said.

Elliot just laughed like he always did. “Thank you for inviting me,” he said. “But I’d better get back to the University, to get cleaned up and everything.”

Sam paused, looking over at Elliot’s mud stained shirt and slacks and his mussed up hair. He felt kind of bad. “Why don’t you come home with me?” he offered. “Take a hot shower. I need to clean Gabriel up anyway and could use the extra help.”

Elliot brightened immediately at the offer and was nodding before Sam had even finished. “Of course!” he said. “That would be great!”

The walk back to the house was uneventful. The downpour had rained itself out into a slight drizzle, so even though he didn't have an umbrella or even a jacket to out over his head, Sam wasn't exactly soaked when they walked into the door. Gabriel had the odd habit of pressing his face against the back of Sam's neck, and since his hair was dripping wet, the back collar of Sam's shirt _was_ soaked.

The forge was empty and silent when they walked inside, which meant that Dean was either upstairs or out for the night.

“The living space is upstairs,” Sam said, leading the way up the stairs. Gabriel was starting to lick the back of his neck and Sam _really_ wanted to put him down.  

The upstairs was just as empty as the downstairs, meaning that Sam and Elliot had the house to itself. Sam deposited a reluctant, whiney Gabriel on the couch and then showed Elliot the way to the bathroom.

“Clean yourself up,” he said. “And then we can deal with Gabriel.”

While Elliot busied himself in the bathroom, figuring out how to work the shower, leaving Sam to deal with Gabriel. At least the avem seemed to have exhausted himself from his play. He didn’t protest as Sam carefully picked him up off the couch and placed him on the floor outside the bathroom, to prevent mud from being tracked everywhere. Gabriel barely even struggled when Sam stripped him from his filthy shirt and shorts, rubbing as much mud off his wings as he could.

Gabriel glared at him and then twisted around, starting to groom himself. He combed his fingers through his feathers, scraping off the drying chunks of mud and fluffing up his feathers so they could dry faster. The floor around him became quickly covered in dirt.

“You could just wait,” Sam remarked, rolling his eyes but not trying to stop him. “You stay here. I’m going to get clean clothes on.”

He changed quickly, leaving all the muddy clothes in a pile at the foot of the bed. He sighed in relief when he found Gabriel in the same hallway he had left him in. The avem was still grooming himself, spitting out mouthfuls of dirt as he strained to lick his wings over his shoulders. He looked up at Sam as he walked up.

“Come here,” Sam said, scooping Gabriel up under his arms. “Stop eating mud.”

The bathroom door opened to reveal Elliot swirling in a cloud of steam. His shirt was off and slung over his shoulder, damp from where he probably tried to wash it in the sink. His pants were spotted with water patches where he had tried to scrub them clean. It wasn’t the best solution but it was the best he could do at the moment.

“Ready for your bath, Gabriel?” he said as soon as he spotted the avem in Sam’s arms. “Huh, buddy? Ready to get clean?”

Gabriel gave him a distrusting look, as if he didn’t like his tone of voice. But he didn’t start struggling. Sam hoped he wouldn’t put up too much of a fight. He didn’t mind the rain, but water and shampoo in a tub were a completely different matter.

“Alright,” Sam said, stepping inside the bathroom into the humid heat from Elliot’s shower. “Let’s do this as painlessly as possible.”

Gabriel didn’t struggle right away. Right away. Sam filled the tub with lukewarm water and soap, making sure it wasn’t too hot that Gabriel would be burned but not too cold that Gabriel would refuse to get in. After a couple soft words and Elliot dunking his entire arm into the water to show Gabriel it was okay, Sam was finally able to coax the avem into the water.

Gabriel even let Sam soap up a washcloth and scrub his skin, even though he constantly tried to reach back and lick his wings for himself. Sam constantly had to pull his chin away. Gabriel didn’t seem to mind being cleaned either, chirping happily when Sam scrubbed his shoulders and rinsed his hair. It wasn’t until Sam tried to move onto washing his wings that Gabriel began to throw a fit.

He had let Sam turn him around in the tub. He had only seemed slightly annoyed when Sam dumped water over his feathers to get them rewet. He began truly struggling when Sam got a handful of soap and attempted to lather up his feathers.

“Easy, easy,” Elliot said, trying to calm Gabriel down. He was struggling to hold onto Gabriel’s hands to stop him from turning around and lashing out at Sam. “We just got to get you clean, okay? Gabriel. Gabriel! You’re going to be okay!”

Gabriel was whistling sharply, trilling high notes of fear that made Sam wince and want to cover his ears. But he soldiered on, quickly scrubbing his fingers through Gabriel’s feathers to clean them as fast as possible.

There was several more moments of struggling. Gabriel thrashed his wings and kicked his legs. Elliot kept a tight grip on his wrists, and Sam continued to wash his feathers. It was several long moments before Gabriel seemed to give up, slumping forward and burying his face in Elliot’s chest. He continued his small tune of fear, cooing as if to comfort himself. His wings even went limp, letting Sam wash them more easily.

“There we go,” he said, finishing up with the soap and began rinsing it out of the feathers. He worked quickly and in no time, Gabriel’s wings were completely clean.

“See, all done,” Elliot said, rubbing the back of Gabriel’s head. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“Let’s get him out of the tub,” Sam said.

They heaved a still-limp Gabriel out of the tub and, with the help of several towels, dried him off. Sam used a particularly fluffy one to wrap around Gabriel’s shoulders to keep him warm to dry him off further. With Gabriel’s body heat and his jerking shivering, there wasn’t too much of a risk of him getting too cold, but Sam didn’t want to take any chances.

Gabriel was extra exhausted after that. All the play and fight left him slumped on the bathroom floor, eyes half closed, and huddled in the towel.

“You can spend the night, if you want,” Sam told Elliot, scooping Gabriel up from the floor. “Or, if you have to get back for classes, I understand.”

Elliot shrugged apologetically, flapping out his shirt and then tugging it on. “Yeah, I probably should be getting back,” he said once his head was free. “It was a great day to spend with Gabriel though.” He gave the avem a smile, but Gabriel was too tired to notice.

Sam said goodbye to Elliot with Gabriel still in his arms, making sure the student remembered all of his stuff before walking out the door. It wasn’t until Sam shut the front door and walked back up to the living room that he realized that Gabriel was actually asleep in his arms.

The avem’s breathing had leveled out and he was completely limp in Sam’s arms, head resting against Sam’s chest, completely out to the world.

Sam chuckled to himself, unsure how he was supposed to set Gabriel down without disturbing him. In the end, he decided he couldn’t. Instead, he settled down on the couch, laying on his back with Gabriel stretched out on his chest.

The avem was warm and his wings were soft, and before Sam realized what he was doing, he was already asleep.  

 


	11. When a Plan is Formed

Gabriel squirmed at the end of his leash, tugging against where it was anchored to the table. Sam had already had to tie his legs down too and didn’t want to do his hands too. He felt bad, even though he had spent an hour beforehand trying to explain what he was going to do to the avem.

“Easy, easy,” he coaxed, muttering the words under his breath. He had one of Gabriel’s wings stretched out to the side so he could completely examine the feathers and joints. “I’m not going to hurt you, Gabriel.”

Gabriel didn’t seem too convinced. He clawed at the wood of the table, trying to yank his wings out of Sam’s grip as he tried to heave himself up off the table. But the leather strips Sam had used were just too strong and the knots too tight. He wasn’t going anywhere.

“I’m just going to take a look at your wings,” Sam said, dropping the wing he had been looking at and quickly moving to the other. “Quickly, quickly, I'm almost done.”

He ran his fingers across the edge of Gabriel's wing, wincing as he felt the jagged scar tissue hidden beneath the feathers. He probed a bit too far and a bit too hard because Gabriel suddenly hissed sharply, twisting his body so hard the Sam was afraid he would hurt himself.

Instead, one of the leather straps holding his right foot snapped clean in half and Gabriel was partially free. Quickly, Sam lunged forward to unsnap the back of Gabriel's leash and jumped back just in time to avoid getting caught by Gabriel's thrashing wings. With the creak of leather and the groan of protesting wood, Gabriel broke free and launched himself across the room in an effort to get away from Sam.

And Sam let him run away. Gabriel would just need a couple hours to lick his wounds and then he would come crawling out of the bedroom and snuggle Sam in exchange for food. And while he simmered down, Sam was going to be studying his textbooks.

With the new knowledge of scar tissue clumped around the ends of Gabriel's wings, Sam wanted to sit down and go over the sketches of avem anatomy one more time. It was almost useless at this point. Sam would just be re-reading information that he already knew, had already known, and had already read ten times already.

He didn’t want to go back to his textbooks, but that was all he could really do at this point.

Sam wanted to help Gabriel. He really, honestly did. He had woken up this morning with the avem still on his chest and still sleeping. It had been soothing, like waking up to a dog at the foot of your bed. Except Gabriel was warm and vaguely human-shaped and he looked so peaceful curled up on Sam's lap.

Sam had lay there on the couch for several minutes, not wanting to disturb him just yet. Instead, he idly brushed his fingers along Gabriel's wings, straightening the feathers and picking out the odd clump of mud that had been missed in last night's bath. They had dried just fine overnight, probably helped by Gabriel's high body heat.  

And Sam had just lay there, enjoying the early morning. Eventually, Dean had gotten up and Sam had listened to him move around the kitchen preparing breakfast and getting ready for the day. Sam pretended to be just as asleep as Gabriel was until he heard Dean walk down the stairs and he knew the apartment was empty.

He had nudged Gabriel awake then and started the day like he normally did. Gabriel had slept for several more hours while Sam worked. He had prepared a meal just in case he did wake up, but when he didn’t, Sam had gone downstairs to bother Dean while he worked.

Well, not bother. He had wanted to see what he was doing.

Dean had been just finishing up some small repairs to kitchen pots and pans, a pile of completed wares. He hadn’t noticed Sam right away so as he set aside the last pan he had been working on, he had wiped his forehead and turned to the next project apparently on his list.

The pair of mechanical wings had been hanging in the back of the work space. The metal supports had been redone at this point, strong and gleaming. Dean had unhooked them and set them on his workbench, extending them completely and grabbing a large stretch of leather to slip over the frame.

The leather was high quality. Sam could tell even from where he stood. It was a rich dark brown, textured but supple and strong. Dean had begun measuring and cutting the different sections, preparing to sew it so that it could be slipped over the supports and become the sort of lift needed for the entire contraption to work.

The makeshift wings had stretched across the entire work bench, and Sam had gotten a good long look at their true size. And an idea had struck him.

He had rushed back upstairs and woken up Gabriel, maybe rather rudely.

He had wanted to measure Gabriel’s wings. Gabriel hadn’t wanted Sam anywhere near his wings. And that’s how he had ended up on the table.

And now Gabriel was in the bedroom, upset at Sam and probably not coming down anytime soon.

Sam sighed. Maybe if he hadn't been so excited, maybe if he had taken a moment to think, maybe if he hasn't acted so irrationally. Too many maybes. Sam was an idiot. He didn't even bother sitting down with his textbooks it diagrams. There was no need to.

Instead, he headed toward Dean's bedroom, knowing that that was probably the most likely place he kept any of his books—if he had any.

Sam had to search, but he did end up finding what he was looking for eventually. He found the tattered cardboard box underneath Dean's bed, and it was full of just the books that Sam was looking for. They were older but all the information couldn't be out of date just yet. The engineering textbooks would hold the formulas and answers that Sam was looking for. Maybe even answers. But Sam didn't want to get his hopes up.  

It took hours.

Sam poured himself over the pages, setting himself up at the kitchen table with an entire pot of tea. He picked apart the paragraphs of jargon, waded his way through the formulas, and struggled to understand the proofs of all the information. He read and he read and he read until his tea went cold. And he continued to read, drinking cold tea out of his mug and combing over the paragraphs of information. He was jarred back to his sense suddenly when Gabriel propped a hand on his leg.

The avem stared up at him from the floor, blinking at him without any emotion. He wasn't scared or forgiving or nervous. Gabriel twitched his wings and then put his other hand on Sam's thigh. He chirped softly.

Sam was scared to move for a moment, just staring down at where Gabriel's hands rested on the fabric of his pant leg. Only fabric between him and Gabriel.

“Food,” Gabriel said, breaking the silence with his demand. “Hungry. Food.”

Oh.

Of course.

Sam should have guessed that's what the avem wanted. What else would he come crawling to Sam for? What else was Sam useful for in Gabriel's eyes, other than someone who provided him food?

Sam grunted and pushed himself up from his seat. It was odd to be staring at something that wasn't white paper with inked symbols, and Sam blinked to clear his vision as he walked to the kitchen. He was pretty sure Dean had a bag of granola in the cupboards that would satisfy Gabriel until a proper meal was prepared, but that wouldn't be until later in the day.

Sam found the granola much to Gabriel's delight and fed him handfuls of the stuff, not pushing the avem to get any closer than he already was. Gabriel kept his distance, obviously, snatching the morsels out of Sam’s hand and staying well out of Sam’s reach. He also kept his wings held tight against his back, as if that would hide them from Sam.

Sam wanted to roll his eyes but didn’t. Instead, he cleared his throat to get Gabriel’s attention, not too loud to scare him though.

“I want to help you,” he said, not quite sure how much Gabriel was understanding.

At some times, the avem seemed to be able to carry out full conversations. And at other times, he barely seemed to understand what Sam was saying. Now, he looked at Sam with squinted eyes, his nose wrinkled and the tips of his wings twitching.

“I want to help you,” Sam repeated, hoping the Gabriel was listening and understanding him. “And I know you don’t like anyone near your wings, I still need to study them in order to help you.”

Gabriel clicked his tongue and chittered, circling the floor nervously. He finally plopped down, curling his wings around himself and grooming them. He was quiet for a long moment, and Sam just watched him silently.

“Help?” Gabriel finally repeated softly, almost more to himself than to Sam.

“Of course,” Sam said, encouraged by the response. “I know that the circus was . . . not good. It was bad. But I’m not the circus. You are out of that. The circus is gone.”

Gabriel snorted and rolled his eyes. “Bad,” he said in between small chirps. “Very bad. Not nice people.” He looked at Sam then, frowning hard in concentration, studying him from head to toe. Finally, he cooed and flicked his wings open a bit more than before. “Sam,” he said. “Good Sam.”

Sam sighed in relief and slumped back in his chair, like a weight had been taken off his shoulders. Maybe, just maybe, this whole ordeal will get easier if Gabriel would cooperate through it all. Not that it would be easy at all, but easier.

“I’ve been reading,” he said, now that he knew Gabriel was more open to ideas. “About a lot of things, and I think I know something that could help you. It might take a bit to put it together and make it work, but as far as I can tell, it would be able to work.”

“Work?” Gabriel repeated, peering up at Sam curiously.

“Work,” Sam said. “As in help you fly again.”

Immediately, Gabriel was jumping to his feet, flaring his wings excitedly and chattering like a mother hen. He bounded in tight circles, flapping his wings and bouncing to get slightly off the ground but not real flight. That wasn’t something he could achieve just yet. _Yet_.

Sam smiled at his enthusiasm, glad that the avem was feeling better than before. Glad he had been able to make this step, this connection.

Gabriel obviously wasn’t about to shower him in affection, but if Sam could get him to trust him enough to handle his wings, then he would be able to work. Logistics and plans were already filtering through his mind, a dozen different hypothetical models of what he wanted to build and deciding which ones were better than others in an instant.  

“This means you have to cooperate now,” Sam said, trying to be as stern as he could with the elated avem. “You can’t get angry when I need to look at your wings, okay?”

Gabriel only trilled excitedly and bounded out of the kitchen. He scrambled up the couch, sitting proud and tall at the very top for a moment before spreading his wings, tipping his head back, and crowing at the ceiling. _Loudly_.

Sam jumped to his feet, hands instinctively going to his ears to protect them the best he could.

“Keep it down!” he snapped. “If you annoy Dean too much, he’ll kick you out. And then what?”

Gabriel only cackled, apparently nothing able to get his mood down now. He beat his wings like a peacock too proud for its own good. He stretched his wings as far as they would go, trilling in triumphant and showing off the feathers he had left. He crooned and gave Sam a hard look.

Hanging off the back of the couch, Gabriel turned his wings towards Sam’s direction. He twitched them, opening them as far as they would go. He shimmied and shook back and forth, giving Sam sly glances between his feathers.

“Oh, geez,” Sam muttered, covering his face with his hands. He waved a hand at Gabriel, hoping to shoo him off even as the avem danced a bit closer. “You do realize we’re incompatible species, right?”

Gabriel cooed and wiggled his wings seductively.

Sam rolled his eyes. “You idiot.”

Gabriel batted his eyes, taking another step closer. And then he finally turned to face Sam, spreading his legs wide and pumping his hips in a parody of breeding.

“Gross!” Sam snapped, throwing a chunk of granola at Gabriel, making him yelp and retreat to a safer distance.

 Apparently that was enough to ward off any interest in mating that Gabriel had, because he shot Sam a betrayed look and then scampered back to the bedroom. Sam would have to guess that he was climbing up into his nest, betrayed and put off. But that was nothing a good night’s rest wouldn’t fix.

Sam rolled his eyes at the petty reaction but gathered up what was left of the granola, bagging it carefully and then returning it to its spot in the cupboard. He then cleaned up the rest of the kitchen, making sure everything was as Dean liked it.

And then Sam turned towards the stairs walking towards the space where he knew Dean was still working. His footsteps echoed on the wood, strangely loud, probably because there was no sound coming from the workshop. No clanging, no hiss of hot metal hitting water, no whooshing of the bellows stoking the flames.

Sam found Dean hunched over a huge stretch of blueprints detailing a dozen different variations of the wings that were currently stretched across the workbench. His hands were threaded through his sweaty hair, clenching at the strands as if he could tear out his thoughts that way.

“What are you thinking about?” Sam asked, settling on the opposite side of the bench from Dean.

“I’m just trying to put everything together,” Dean said, letting go of his head and splaying his hands across the paper. He tapped the different models, dragging his finger from drawing to drawing. “I’ve tried ten different things and each one falls short.”

Sam leaned heavily on the counter, looking over all the different systems that Dean had planned. The rough charcoal drawings were similar to Sam’s one pencil sketches, except they were clunkier, darker, and drawn with a heavier hand. Pulleys, hinges, and joints all detailed in heavy black lines. The leather sails were in a couple models. In a couple others, it was just cotton sheets.

Sam studied them all and almost smiled when he didn’t see his own idea already drawn out. He wasn’t an engineer by any means so if plan had already been drawn out and tried, he wouldn’t have been surprised. But seeing that it wasn’t there gave him hope.

“Do you have any gears?” he asked, tapping his own finger against a model that most closely matched the one in his head.

“Gears?” Dean repeated, turning his attention to the model Sam was pointing out. “Why would that help? What would they do?”

“Gears would allow the wings to move more freely,” Sam said, trying to explain what he had learned from Dean’s textbooks only a couple hours earlier. “Give the wings a wider range of motion.” He chewed his lip because he wasn’t sure if Dean would be willing to help him with such a crazy idea. “It would allow the wings to be controlled by muscles.”

Dean frowned. “Muscles?” He scooped up the paper, glaring at each drawing in turn as if he were trying to see was Sam was seeing. “Wait. Yes! Wait, no. Sam, that wouldn’t work unless the person using them already had muscles dedicated to controlling wings.” He tossed the paper down and slumped his head in his hands again with a disappointed sigh.  “To use wings made with gears, the person would already have to have wings.”

Sam leaned forward, disappointed that Dean hadn’t connected the dots himself but not entirely unsurprised.

“Exactly,” he said.  

 


	12. When Sam is Successful

“I think these are too complicated for Gabriel,” Elliot said, hoisting the contraption that Dean had slung together for them. “I mean, you have to remember he’s still an animal.”

“But a smart animal,” Sam said, lugging the bag that contained the rest of the gear they would need. It was harder than he anticipated, since Gabriel’s leash was slung on his wrist and the avem had the tendency to tug very insistently when he wanted to go a certain direction.

“They seem really heavy too,” Elliot said, hefting the wings and mentally weighing them.

Sam just rolled his eyes. Truthfully, he was trying to ignore any and all problems that could potentially go wrong with his current plan, and Elliot constantly talking about all of those problems was not really helping. It was just making Sam doubt himself.

At least Gabriel was happy to be out of the house. And he was happy to see Elliot too. He was happy to see anyone that wasn’t Sam it seemed. He was currently straining against his leash, trying to get closer to Elliot instead of Sam. Which was, frankly, insulting.

At least there was nothing around for Gabriel to get into any sort of trouble. They had taken a taxi out of town, paying the driver double to put up with Gabriel, and how found an open area where they could be alone. It wasn’t a field because that would require asking a farmer or owner if they could be on their property. Instead, it was just an open area, surrounded by a small grove of trees. It hid them from any prying eyes and was a reminder to what could have probably been Gabriel’s original home.

The avem certainly seemed interested in the trees. If he wasn’t trying to get to Elliot then he was trying to sniff the plants and climb into the branches.  

“Just a moment,” Sam said, finally choosing a spot to set down his armload of stuff. Once everything was safely on the ground, he slipped Gabriel’s leash off his arm and reined him in, unhooking him from his harness so that he could explore better.

He was only half concerned with Gabriel running off. The avem couldn’t fly so he couldn’t make it too far too fast. But he was slippery and could sprint for short distances. With Elliot to help him though, Sam was sure they would be able to contain Gabriel together.

Gabriel immediately bounded to the nearest tree, circling it curiously and then rubbing his wings against the bark. The branches were too high up for him to jump and make it, but he was apparently very eager to mark the area as his. Sam groaned and looked away to from him. He should have expected it honestly.

“Over here,” he called to Elliot. “We can set everything up and then see what Gabriel thinks.”

Elliot obliged, carrying the wing contraption over to where Sam had set up everything else.

The wings were a beautiful work of art. Dean really had outdone himself. The normal joints of tempered metal screwed together were replaced with intricate systems of gears that could turn and lock in different configurations. They slid with only small clicks since Sam had oiled them well before they left the house. He wanted to make sure everything worked.

A series of leathers straps, treated to be strong and supple at the same time, hung from the wings as well. They were a new addition from the original design. Instead of wrapping around the shoulders of the person wearing it, these straps were much more delicate in that they would attach to wings of an avem, hopefully on the points where the muscles contract and pull.  

Sam was not looking forward to wrestling Gabriel into it.

Still, that didn’t stop him from admiring it. Dean really had outdone himself and Sam had to think of a way to repay him. Maybe when he went back to America and had the chance to work again. He could easily send money or another form of payment back on a supply ship.

But going back across the sea.

That seemed so huge. And hard to believe. It was hard to view that place as home any more than he could view England being his home. Not that he felt out of place. More like, he settled down so easily anywhere that it depended more on who he was with than where he was at any given moment.

Sam was pulled out of his thoughts as Gabriel trilled for attention.

The avem had found a tree with branches low enough for him to jump and climb into and he was now perched several feet off the ground with his wings proudly flared. His chest was puffed out, clearly showing off to Elliot and Sam.  

“What a dork,” Elliot said with a roll of his eyes as Gabriel strutted back and forth on his branch. “Do you think he’ll come down from there willingly?”

Sam shrugged. “I packed cookies,” he said. “If that doesn’t work, then I don’t know what will.”

Gabriel just continued to croon to himself, singing a song intended just for himself and no one else. As far as he was concerned, the world revolved around himself and no one else. Once he was sufficiently satisfied with sniffing out the branch he was on, he settled down and began grooming his wings, luxuriously bathing himself in the sunlight.

“Leave him for now,” Sam said, turning back to their pile of supplies. “We’ll deal with him when we need him.”

As it was, it took them a lot longer than Sam anticipated to unload and prepare everything that they needed. The wings needed to be looked over one last time, any screws or bolts tightened appropriately. They also needed to be well-oiled and greased in preparation of spending the rest of their time outside. The leather had already been waterproofed and treated. Smaller things, like making sure the buckles could be tightened and locked, were also inspected. Finally, there was nothing else stopping the inevitable.

Sam turned back the clearing, finding the tree that Gabriel was now dosing in, and whistled sharply. He waved the bag of cookies over his head, hoping Gabriel would realize what they were on his own and come down.

Gabriel opened one eye halfway to give Sam an unimpressed glare. He didn’t even give the bag of cookies a second look before rolling over on his branch and going back to sleep.

“Well, that didn’t work,” Elliot said, stepping up to stand next to Sam.

“I don’t blame him,” Sam said, letting his arm drop back to his side. “From the circus to my place. I almost forgot that avem need this sort of outside freedom. Gabriel hasn’t had that in . . . well, a long time.”

“He’ll sleep like a cat if we don’t do anything about him,” Elliot said, propping his hands on his hips. “He can rest when we’re done. He’ll thank us later I’m sure.”

Elliot then started across the clearing, clapping his hands in front of himself, whistling at Gabriel in an effort to wake him up. He even did the food chirp with no success. Gabriel’s wings didn’t even twitch.

“Come on, Gabriel!” Elliot called, finally stopping at the base of Gabriel’s tree. “Don’t make me climb up there!”

Gabriel stirred then, shifting so that he could push himself up and look down at Elliot, gauging if the threat was serious or not. He yawned and stretched and actually did sit up. He chirped down at Elliot, returning a crude version of the food song with his head cocked to the side. Elliot nodded and repeated the chirp.

Sam breathed a sigh of relief as Gabriel shimmied down the trunk and finally jumped down into Elliot’s arms, curling himself around the boy as much as he could, burying his face in Elliot’s neck. With a look of triumph, Elliot walked back over to Sam.

“Just hold him still,” Sam said with a roll of his eyes. “I’ll get the wings on him.”

That was a lot harder than he expected. After a few minutes of struggling, Elliot finally sat down on the ground, keeping Gabriel in his lap with cookies and cuddles while Sam worked behind him. At least Gabriel was letting his wings be touched.

Sam maneuvered them as gently as he could, shifting them into place and tightening the straps just so, so that they weren’t crushing any important feathers. Gabriel complained a bit when the weight of the faux wings settled on his own, but a few soft words from Elliot and another cookie calmed him down. Finally, after many long, long minutes, Sam had the wings positioned the way he wanted and tightened enough so that they would hopefully work.

“Okay,” he said, sitting back and wiping the sweat that had accumulated on his forehead. “Let’s see if that works.”

Elliot coaxed Gabriel up and off his lap, urging him to move on his own.

Gabriel protested for a bit, trying to snuggle back onto Elliot’s lap. When he was unsuccessful with that, he huffed and crawled off. He only made it a couple feet before the odd feeling of his wings seemed to catch up with him. He twitched them, trying to shake off the weight absentmindedly. When that didn’t work, Gabriel seemed to realize something was definitely wrong and stopped moving.

He glared over his shoulder at his wings, finally noticing what was causing the offending weight and definitely not liking it. He thrashing his wings a bit harder, trying to shake the device off. He chirped in higher and higher distress when that didn’t work.

The gears and joints clicked and slid just as smoothly as Sam would have hoped. But they didn’t catch like he wanted. The straps holding the wings in place didn’t catch the movement and transfer it to the device, so the leather and metal dragged on Gabriel’s wings.

“Um, I don’t think it’s working,” Elliot said. “Professor Winchester, I don’t want him to hurt himself.”

“Just give it a bit more,” Sam said, chewing his bottom lip. “Just . . . a bit more.”

They had come so far and done so much. Sam didn’t want to just give up now. The wings just needed time, a little bit more. They just needed to catch and then Gabriel would understand and everything would be fine.

Gabriel was twisting in tight circles now, flapping his wings and beating the device against the ground. The metal was strong and the leather wouldn’t rip, but the delicate gears did have a limit. If Gabriel kept that up, Sam and Elliot would definitely have to step in and stop him, or else all of Dean’s hard work would be destroyed.

And then the gears caught.

Gabriel had arched his wings up, ready to bring them down in a powerful thrust that probably would have been the death of the carefully crafted device. However, the action also had the double effect of snapping the faux wings to their extent and that caused the gears to finally catch and snap into place. They now stretched out in perfect extensions of Gabriel’s own wings, no longer limp, instead now positioned just how they were supposed to be. They nearly doubled his wingspan in total, and the caramel brown of the leather almost perfectly matched Gabriel’s own feathers.

Gabriel froze with them extended, caught completely off guard by this change of events. He didn’t lower his wings, but he did restudy them with a renewed interest.

Sam and Elliot both held their breath.

Gabriel brought his wings down and then chirped in surprise when the metal and leather moved with him, no longer the deadweight he thought it had been. The joints folded perfectly, directed by the flexing of Gabriel’s own wings and matching his movements as if they were flesh and blood. Gabriel kept them extended, as if scared of the movement.

Elliot grabbed Sam’s hand suddenly, probably out of nerves, squeezing it hard. Sam squeezed back because he was just as nervous.

Gabriel finally got the courage to move the wings more. He folded them up and down, watching how they moved with him, testing it. He moved one wing and then the other. He tried one up and one down. He tried folding them completely in and squawked in disbelief as they folded perfectly down with his own.

“Do you think he will . . . you know?” Elliot whispered, clinging even tighter to Sam’s arm.

“I don’t know,” Sam said honestly. That was all up to Gabriel really.

And Gabriel certainly hadn’t decided if he liked the wings yet or not. He was still experimenting with the movement, figuring out that, no matter what he did, the new wings moved the exact same as he own. But he wasn’t quite ready to trust them yet it seemed.

He attempted walking, keeping his neck craned around as if he wasn’t even sure that the wings would stay attached to him. Once he was satisfied with walking, he tried bounding, bouncing forward on all fours, letting his wings flop a little. When that worked, the realization suddenly clicked and Gabriel looked at his new wings with a new awe.

He looked back at Sam and Elliot and trilled a song of triumph, raising his wings up as if to show them off. He was smiling now too, beaming from ear to ear as he jumped up and down.

Before Sam could call out or even think of something to say, Gabriel turned his back to them and jumped into the air, giving his new wings a powerful thrust downward.

The gust spread across the clearing and was so powerful that it pushed Sam’s hair back away from his face. He had to squint to stop his eyes from getting completely blinded and even then, his eyes still watered.

“Look!” Elliot said.

Sam managed to opened his eyes completely and see what Elliot was pointing out. He was just in time too.

Gabriel had actually made it into the air. He was gangly and unruly and didn’t have complete control over his wings just yet, but his muscles remembered what he was supposed to be doing and the faux wings followed his muscles.

He was already a dozen feet in the air from simply flapping and that in and of itself was amazing. Sam watched in awe as Gabriel gained more and more confidence. He stayed pretty low at the beginning, figuring out to trust the metal and leather the same way he trusted his own wings. It didn’t take him long before he was circling the clearing with the ease of a regular avem.

He was singing at the top of his lungs too, performing flips and tumbles and happier than Sam had ever seen him before. He stayed in the air for several long, successful minutes, never going above the treetops but doing something he hadn’t done in who knew how long.

“I can’t believe it,” Elliot said. “They work. They work!”

Sam was smiling too, wanting to laugh and celebrate and cheer. He just stood there, watching Gabriel fly in circles and gain more and more coordination.

Gabriel finally landed on the ground again, panting and out of breath but still smiling wide. He folded his wings. Then unfolded them. Then folded them again. He plopped down and curled them around himself, grooming his feathers and then trying to groom the leather. He wasn’t that successful but that didn’t stop him from trying.

Sam laughed at that. “I think he likes them.”

Elliot nodded. “I think so too,” he said with a laugh of his own. He finally let go of Sam’s hand and bent down to grab the bag of cookies where he had dropped them on the ground. He shook them above his head and whistled. “Here, Gabriel! Come get a treat.”

Gabriel looked up at them and then rolled to his feet. He looked at his wings and then back at them, like he couldn’t put two and two together. He cooed in confusion for a moment, smile falling off his face.

“Gabriel?” Sam called. It wasn’t like him to turn down a treat, especially if it was a cookie. The avem seemed to thrive off of anything sweet. “Don’t you want a cookie?”

Gabriel chirped, significantly quieter than before, looking between Sam and Elliot and the cookies and his new wings. He cooed again.

“Gabriel,” Elliot said again, shaking the bag of cookies. “Don’t you want—”

He didn’t even get a chance to finish his sentence before Gabriel turned back around, raised his wings high above his head, and took off again. Already he was significantly more coordinated, his strokes more powerful and sure. He didn’t even look back over his shoulder.

And he didn’t stop at the treetops this time either.

Gabriel continued upwards, higher and higher and higher until he was just a spot in the sky and Sam couldn’t even tell him apart from another passing avem. His figure circled the clearing a couple times and then picked a direction and was gone.

Just like that.

Elliot still had the bag of cookies held up over his head.

Sam didn’t even know what say.

He and Elliot just continued staring up at the sky, focused on the spot where Gabriel had disappeared. As if neither of them could believe what had just happened. And Sam couldn’t. He really couldn’t. Out of every reaction he had thought Gabriel would have, the thought that he would just _leave_ hadn’t even crossed his mind. For some reason. Some stupid reason. Why hadn’t he thought of that?!

It was Elliot that broke the silence, letting the cookie bag drop back to his side with the rustle of paper.

“I guess,” he said softly. “I forgot he was a wild animal.”

Sam had forgotten too. He had completely forgotten.

“Do you think he’s gone?” Elliot asked. “Like . . . forever?”

“I don’t know,” Sam said. He couldn’t take his eyes off the sky, wishing that Gabriel would come back. By some sort of fluke, Gabriel would reappear and come back for the cookie that Elliot had offered.

“I mean, at least he’s free,” Elliot said. “That’s how avem are supposed to be. Not caged up somewhere.”

“Yeah,” Sam agreed.

He tried to remind himself that that had been the whole reason that he had bought Gabriel in the first place. He had bought him from the circus because an avem wasn’t supposed to be kept in a cage only brought out to perform for money, to dance like a trained monkey. And even at the Smithing. Gabriel wasn’t meant to be cooped up like that. Avem were never supposed to be confined to the ground. It was unnatural.

But Sam couldn’t shake the feeling that there should have been something more in this moment. Gabriel was supposed to say goodbye before leaving, not just take off like that.

But Gabriel wasn’t a human. Gabriel didn’t understand goodbye. Gabriel just knew freedom. Gabriel just _wanted_ freedom.

Sam would have to be satisfied that it had been him who was able to give Gabriel that freedom.

 


	13. Epilogue

*several years later*

 

Sam was sitting at his desk, pouring over the manuscript he was working on. He was published author now, renowned almost, for his studies into avem flight patterns and communication methods. The manuscript he was working on, in fact, was going to be a sequel to that work.

“The Mostly Complete, Illustrated Guide to _Avem Hominum_ , Their Wings, and Their Flight Patterns.”

It was going to be the capstone of Sam’s career, two hundred pages thick already and a hundred more to go. The entire thing was going to be written and illustrated by Sam himself, which meant he was pouring love and care into each sketch.

Sam glanced over at the bay windows on the opposite side of his office. A dozen pictures were already hanging up in the sunlight, the ink drying and becoming more and more permanent the longer it hung there. The sketches displayed the skeletal structure of the common North American avem, all of it labelled in Sam’s deliberate handwriting. There were a dozen other drawings of the muscular system, and then a dozen more of the full wings, feathers and all.

Sam looked past the pictures and out over the courtyard.

His house was large. Sam knew that. As a professor of the sciences and currently employed part-time at Harvard, Sam's financial luck had turned around. He had enough money to live comfortably. After a couple months of saving up, he was able to pay for Elliot to join him as his official assistant.

They purchased a house together—a large homestead with a barn and plenty of land. Sam used the space to host impromptu classes for students and meetings for other professors. It was Elliot's idea to use the space to rehabilitate avems.

That's where he was now, out in the middle of the courtyard.

They had erected five different stands for their winged patients. When they were not recovering in the barn, the avems usually preferred to be up high and basking in the sun.

They only had one avem with them at the time. They had found him abandoned as a hatchling. Sam figured the poor thing had tumbled too soon out of his nest and broken his wing. His parents had then abandoned him in hopes of keeping their other offspring alive. Elliot had found him just in time, personally nursing the avem back from the brink of starvation and dehydration. Sam had set his wing, and the next few weeks were touch and go for a while.

Elliot had named the avem Jack after two days against Sam's warnings. Naming the avem so soon made them more attached to it, and if they weren't sure if it was even going to make it, it was best to wait on any sort of names.

But Jack had survived. His wings had grown out into a beautiful tawny brown with speckled white undersides. He was lively and active and, since he was socialized around humans at such a young age, was absolutely perfect for Sam's lectures.

It was only last week that his primary feathers had fully sprouted, and he had spent every day up on a perch since, getting accustomed to the height and learning to flap his wings in the gusts of wind. He was safely tethered with a strap of leather around his ankle, but Sam was hoping by next week he would be off the ground and officially in the air.

He watched out the windows as Elliot untethered Jack and pulled him down from the stand. It was probably time for lunch for the avem, which meant the Sam should probably get something to eat too. So he pushed himself away from his work, stretched his arms over his head, and then went downstairs to see what was in the ice box.

Jack and Elliot were already in the kitchen, and Sam amidst groaned when he saw Jack perched on the table.

“You know he's not allowed in furniture,” Sam said, giving Jack a disapproving look. “Especially on the table.”

Jack chirped happily, grabbing at Sam and clearly hoping to be picked up. Sam obliged him because it got him off the table and because carrying Jack want that hard at all. He was tiny and light and if he clambered up onto your shoulders you could practically ignore he was there.

Jack didn't do that now. He curled up happily in Sam's arms, flopping his wings in a way the Sam had recently learned avem only did when they felt completely safe. He chirped once more, burying his face into Sam’s arms.

“You know you can’t be angry at him,” Elliot said, putting water on to prepare the usual oatmeal mix they kept on-hand for the avems.

“Yeah, but I can be angry at you,” Sam said.  “And I could easily fire you.” Sam lifted Jack’s shirt and pressed his hands against the avem’s ribs.

The avem was prone to taking tumbles and easily accumulated bruises if Sam and Elliot weren’t careful. Avem bones were particularly strong, so Sam wasn’t too worried about broken bones. But it never hurt to check. Jack was fine though, and he huffed out a sort of human-like laugh that he had picked up after spending so much time with Elliot.

“You wouldn’t fire me,” Elliot said. He bustled around the kitchen, grabbing dishes and spoons and forks. He had also put a kettle on to heat water for either coffee or tea so he grabbed two mugs as well. “I’m too important to you.”

That was basically true. Without Elliot, Sam wouldn’t be able to work with avems as much as he did. Elliot was the one in charge of feeding and watering any avems they happened to have on site. Sam helped when he could, of course, but he was also busy with lectures and work of his own. Elliot was amazing at working with the animals, and Sam was constantly grateful for him.

Jack chirped and pushed away from Sam’s chest, wanting to be put down. Sam obliged him, watching the avem scamper across the floor and curl around Elliot’s legs. Yeah, the boy was obvious the favorite of most avem.

“Do you want to try manning and flying him today?” Sam asked, opening a cupboard and taking down the coffee tin.

The water was almost hot enough so he spooned grounds into each cup, enough to make it strong enough for both of their preferences. He then capped it and put it away. It took him a moment to realize that Elliot was staring at him excitedly, mouth open in a wide smile. Jack was still curled around his feet, not following the conversation, only concerned with staying as close to Elliot as possible.

“Of course!” Elliot said. “Yes! Definitely! After we eat?”

Sam shrugged. “Sure, if Jack isn’t so fat that he can’t get off the ground afterwards.”

Jack didn’t seem to pick up on the joke, only hearing his name. He cooed and fluttered his wings, getting under Sam’s feet instead of Elliot’s as he poured the hot water into both of their cups. Jack wrinkled his nose and sneezed at the scent of coffee, but the promise of food kept him in the kitchen.

“He’ll be fine, I’m sure,” Elliot said, pulling the pot of mush off the stove and scooping into Jack’s bowl. He kept it on the counter for it to cool for a bit and instead busied himself with preparing his and Sam’s own lunch. It was just sandwiches, which didn’t require much work anyway.

“He's getting stronger,” Sam said, taking a seat at the table.

That was true at least.

Jack was extremely coordinated and moved easily on both two and four feet. He could manipulate objects with his hands. He knew how to open cupboards and draws and, after watching Elliot for a day, how to unlock and open doors as well. He was smart. Sam was curious if he was smart enough to figure out flying.

Elliot plated up the two sandwiches he made, setting them both on the table and then placing Jack’s bowl on the floor so he could reach it easier. They ate quickly and without much conversation. The promise of flying attempts apparently enough to focus Elliot. They left the dishes in the sink to be washed later and headed outside.

“Jack, mount up,” Elliot called, extending an arm and bracing himself for the impact.

Jack chirped and obeyed the order, jumping up to perch on Elliot’s arm, close to his shoulder so as not to strain the muscle. He flared his wings for balance but other than that, his form was perfect.

Sam smiled at his obvious improvement, proud of how far he had come from when they had first found him out in the woods. But he couldn’t wait for long. Elliot couldn’t stand with Jack on his arm for too long. He was strong, but only so strong.

“Alright,” Sam said, keeping his distance in order to give Jack enough space. “Try sending him off.”

Elliot clicked his tongue to let Jack know what was going to happen. Jack readied himself, crouching down and flaring his wings. He was good at the take off part. He knew how to jump into the air and how to flap his wings for the first few seconds. He wasn’t that good at anything after that.

But he was determined.

Elliot gave a sharp whistle, and Jack launched himself into the air with an explosion of muscles and wings. Just like always, he flapped the first few seconds. He managed to stay aloft and even gained altitude. He hit the point where he usually faltered and fell back down to earth.

But he didn’t.

Jack kept flapping and he kept gaining height. And he kept flapping and he kept gaining height.

“He’s doing it!” Elliot exclaimed, jumping up and down and pumping his fists in the air. He gave a whoop of triumph, and Jack returned it with a shriek of victory.

Sam was smiling too. He had never seen an avem learn how to fly and yet here he was, watching Jack wobble his way through the air, gaining more and more strength and confidence with each wing-stroke. It was beautiful.

“Sam! Look!” Elliot yelled, pointing towards the tree line to the side of the house.

Sam looked, and his stomach sunk when he saw another avem take flight from a tree. Not that other avem were bad necessarily. But he had seen way too many scuffles end in blood and death to be comfortable. If Jack was flying in another avem’s territory, he needed to get back down on the ground now.

“Call Jack back down,” Sam yelled to Elliot. “Get him back on the ground.”

Elliot whistled sharply, trying to catch Jack’s attention. But the avem was too caught up in his newfound freedom and certainly didn’t want to come back down so soon after getting up.

The other avem was getting closer. It looked large and weathered, like an alpha male. This must definitely be about territory then. The avem looked old and experienced, feathers ruffled in a way that showed a history of battles and wounds. Jack wouldn’t stand a chance if they got into a fight.

“Jack!” Elliot called behind Sam, still trying to get Jack out of the sky. “Come down, boy. I’ve got treats!”

Jack still wasn’t obeying.

Sam was starting to panic more. “Elliot, go get my hunting rifle!” he yelled. He had to save Jack if anything.

“But—”

“Now!”

Elliot’s footsteps thudded away, but Sam couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sky. Jack had noticed the other avem now and was circling curiously. He cooed and chirped, more playful than anything, probably expecting to make a friend out of this newcomer. He was going to be sorely mistaken.

“Here!” Elliot said, practically running into Sam as he shoved the gun into Sam’s hands.

Sam kept the rifle loaded and slid the safety off with ease. He braced the butt against his shoulder and swung the barrel up. He took a breath to calm himself because he wouldn’t be able to aim right if he was panicking. He closed one eye, tipped his head to the side, and looked through the scope to track the new avem.

Maybe he wouldn’t have to shoot to kill. Maybe, instead, he could just shoot the avem out of the sky. Wound a wing or something. Sam found the avem in the sightline and rested his finger on the trigger, ready to squeeze and fire if need be. But as he focused on the wings, he paused, because they didn’t look right.

It was as if the feathers had been stripped off the bone, leaving just bare flesh behind. But that couldn’t be right. Without feathers, the avem wouldn’t be able to fly.

The avem shrieked, flaring its wings as it pulled up short. Jack was much more awkward, doubling back on himself and that flapping noisily just to stay in place. He chirped happily, holding out his hands to the avem as if inviting him to play.

“Jack! Jack boy! Come back down!” Elliot called, still trying set them apart, but Jack wasn’t listening.

“I’m not going to shoot the other one down just yet,” Sam said, cocking back the hammer of the rifle. “This is just a warning shot.”

“Careful!” Elliot said.

Sam aimed the rifle over both of the avems’ head and let a bullet fly. The gun went off with a bang and the two avem ducked for cover. Jack screeched in fear and ducked down, pulling his wings in close and taking a sudden dive. The other avem did the exact opposite, swooping up and gaining height as a protection from whatever threats there happened to be. For a moment, the avem was silhouetted against the sun, the rays streaming through its feathers, or rather, what was left of its feathers.

“Wait a minute,” Elliot said.

Sam reloaded the gun. “Call Jack down!”

“Mr. Winchester, wait!” Elliot said.

“What the hell!” Sam said when Elliot grabbed the barrel of the gun and wrenched it downwards. He managed to avoid pulling the trigger but the gun still could’ve gone off, hurting either one or both of them. “What did you do that for?”

“Because look!” Elliot said, pointing up at the avem.

Sam looked, but he wasn’t sure what he was looking for.

Jack had fallen down closer to the earth but still hadn’t landed. The other avem was still high in the sky, now circling like a vulture almost. Its strange wings were still stretched wide and reflected the rays of sun, forcing Sam to squint if he wanted to continue watching.

Wait, reflecting?

The avem swooped down lower, lower than Jack and sang excitedly.

“Sam!” it said. “Sam! Sam!”

Sam let the gun dangle at his side and barely remembered to flip the safety back on before letting it drop to the ground.

“Gabriel?” he said.

The avem landed and beamed at him, fluffing up his wings and showing off how well they had been maintained. Well, the leather sails were pale and washed out from exposure to the elements, but the joints still worked over and the metal supports were still holding up. There wasn’t a speck of rust in sight.

“Gabriel!” Sam said again, not sure what else he was supposed to say. He thought he would never see the avem ever again.

Gabriel just grinned at him and stood up on two legs. He had to hunch to make sure his wings didn’t drag on the ground, but he managed it. He put his hands on his hips and puffed out his chest.

“I’m Sam!” he declared in that oh-so-familiar mocking tone. “I’m Sam! I thought I could leave Gabriel forever. I’m Sam.”

“You’re the one who left, you idiot,” Sam said.

He didn’t want to scare Gabriel off by rushing forward to grab him, but that’s what he wanted to do. It was a miracle! He couldn’t believe it! Elliot had latched onto the back of his shirt and was bouncing excitedly, like he couldn’t believe it either.

Jack landed now, scurrying quickly behind Elliot and eyeing this new avem up and down, obviously unsure about the strange wings and the even stranger avem. He chirped in confusion, looking to Elliot for guidance.

“I can't believe it,” Elliot said in awe. “I thought we would never see him again.”

“Me either,” Sam said. “Huh, Gabriel? How did you find me?”

Gabriel chirped and dropped back down to all-fours. He turned around and splayed his wings for inspection. The metal had held up good, better than Sam could have hoped for. It looked like all of the gears were still in the right places and still running smoothly. The leather sails were pale and bleached by sun and rain, but again, they had held up better than Sam had expected.

And that’s when he noticed the rip.

It wasn’t big. Not really. It was on the left wing, down near the tip. The leather had frayed a bit near one of the gears, probably rubbed off by friction. It wasn’t a big problem at the moment, but if it got any worse, Gabriel would definitely find himself grounded and back in trouble.

“Is that why you found me, bud?” Sam said, taking a step forward and scooping up the tip of Gabriel’s wing.

Gabriel chirped at him and let the touch go. He looked back over his shoulder to watch what Sam was doing. He didn’t pull away though, which was a welcomed change.

“I can't believe it,” Elliot said with a laugh. “I can't believe he came back.”

“I can't believe he even found us,” Sam said, settling back in his heels once he was satisfied with his inspection. “Huh, Gabriel? You found me so I could fix your wings?”

Gabriel chirped his confirmation and turned back around, folding his wings along his back. He grinned at Sam and bobbed his head.

Sam looked back at Elliot and grinned at both Elliot and a still-confused Jack. “Let's get him inside. I think I have some spare leather that I could use to patch them up. They could probably use another layer of waterproofing too and a general cleaning.”

Gabriel was happy to follow them into the house and immediately ran to the kitchen, as if he knew that was where all the food was. Luckily, Sam kept the drawers and cupboards locked for the most part. Living with avems quickly taught you to lock down or board up anything you didn’t want stolen. So, Gabriel didn’t make it very far in the department.

Jack was sticking close to Elliot, cooing and chirping softly, very very confused by this much older avem and his strange wings. His nose kept twitching and he craned his neck to get as close to Gabriel as possible without actually getting close to him.

“Stay here,” Sam said, heading back into the house to the storeroom where they kept the scraps of fabric.

He found just what he was looking for. The roll of leather wasn’t as supple or worn as what had originally been put on the frame, but it was also tough and hardier. It would last even longer than the first stuff had. Sam gathered it, a pair of shearing scissors, and a spool of thread and needle before heading back to the kitchen.

Jack and Gabriel were now sniffing each other up and down, apparently starting to get used to each other’s presence. They looked like skittish hatchlings, about to jump out of their skin if the other made a too-sudden move. It was mildly amusing.

“Here you go,” Sam said, placing the fabric on the table. “Come here, Gabriel.”

Gabriel abandoned the stare down with Jack and hopped up onto the table. Thankfully, they had cleared off the space beforehand because Gabriel paid no heed to anything else. He plopped down in the middle of the table and spread his wings for another inspection. He was calm and obedient, nothing like how he had been before. Sam was still wrapping his head around the whole thing.

Sam went to work, carefully cutting away the ruined leather and then replacing it with new leather. He double checked his stitching to make sure it was strong enough and then continued inspecting the rest of the wings. He found two more spots to fix. They weren’t as bad as the first, but as long as Gabriel was here, Sam could make sure he left with wings strong enough to last for a while. Gabriel had found him once, but that was no guarantee that he could find him again.

Once the wings were completely repaired to Sam’s satisfaction, he rubbed them down with waterproofing oil to make sure they wouldn’t dissolve in a rainstorm. He took the chance to tighten any screws and double check the gears of the joints as well, but nothing was too out of place. He briefly ran his hands down the bottom half of Gabriel’s wings as well. There were a couple new scars but everything was in order. Sam stepped back and wiped his hands on his shirt.

“All done,” he said, and Gabriel popped back to his feet.

“Better!” he declared proudly, puffing out his chest as if he had been the one who had done all the fixing.

Sam just rolled his eyes. “Whatever,” he said. “Are you going to spend the night or just leave?”

Gabriel smirked and then jumped off the table and into Sam’s arms. Sam caught him of course, but he was still caught off guard. He was even more surprised when Gabriel grabbed his face in his hands and planted a firm kiss right on his lips. Where he had learned that, Sam didn’t know.

Gabriel was cackling before Sam could react and then jumping out of his arms, bounding out the door and back into the yard. He took off and, with his new wings, he made quick progress.

Before Sam could think of anything to yell at him, Jack was following his lead, running out into the yard and taking off. He was a lot sloppier and didn’t gain height quite as easily. But he followed Gabriel up, singing at him in an effort to get this new friend to stay.

Sam and Elliot just stared after them.

Neither of them protested or tried to call them back down. At this point, they both realized that avems did what they wanted, when they wanted, and there wasn’t much you could do to stop them. 

Gabriel and Jack circled each other in the air for several long minutes. Jack kept trying to swoop closer, but Gabriel always pulled away. They played this sort of cat-and-mouse game for a while until Gabriel seemed to get bored. He hovered for a moment, and Sam could have sworn he was gesturing back down at himself and Elliot.

They could hear the vague songs they were singing to each other but nothing specific. And it wasn’t like Sam would be able to tell what they were talking about anyway. The avem seemed to talk for a moment, discussing something that Sam didn’t understand.

And then Jack was swooping back down towards them, angling himself towards Elliot. He flared his wings in time so he didn’t tackle Elliot with so much force, but the sound of the impact still made Sam wince.

“El,” Jack said, hugging both his arms and his legs around Elliot. “Won’t leave. I won’t!”

Elliot was laughing and hugged the avem back. He looked to Sam in confusion and raised an eyebrow. “Alright? That’s good.”

“Very good,” Sam said with a nod. He looked back up at Gabriel and knew what he had told the other avem. He waved at him.

Gabriel waved back, gave one last shriek of triumph, and flew off, quickly disappearing into the clouds so far above. And then he was gone, for a second time.

Sam didn’t really care though. Maybe Gabriel would be back someday. Maybe his wings would fall apart and he was need to find Sam again so he could fix them. But Sam didn’t really care this time. At least he had gotten to say a proper goodbye, and that was all he really needed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey, I'm still on Tumblr @manuscript-or

**Author's Note:**

> Expect weekly updates unless something goes horribly wrong. ^-^


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